Harry Potter and the Descent into Darkness
by Athey
Summary: 4th yr. Through an accident Harry and Voldemort's Horcrux begin to interact and Harry slowly begins to change. He becomes stronger & slowly grows aware of the sinister events that have perpetuated his entire life. Dark!Harry eventual LV/HP SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **I'm going through the story with a beta finally. I'm sure people will be thrilled that I'm finally having an extra set of eyes go over things to catch all the little typos and spelling goofs I made.

This story is 615 pages long, 32 chapters. It is 'complete' in that it's the whole book 1. I'm already writing the sequel. There is a link on my author profile to my fanfiction forum where I post progress reports on the sequel.

First beta-pass by Clemex

_Disclaimer: I am not JKRowling. I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no profit on this and it is an entirely for-fun endeavor. _

Summary: It's Harry's 4th year at Hogwarts and his name has just come out of the Goblet of Fire. Everyone has abandoned him and he feels utterly alone. Through an accident Harry and the piece of Voldemort's soul that resides inside him begin to interact and Harry slowly begins to change. He becomes stronger and more aware, and slowly grows aware of a more sinister course of events that has perpetuated his entire life.

Warnings: this story is sort of pre-slash / slash. The story is NOT ABOUT THE RELATIONSHIP. The relationship doesn't even really happen until around page 450 (which translates to roughly chapter 24), so if you're here for a ship fic, you won't really find it, or you're going to be waiting a long time before it gets there. The pairing is HP/LV Yes – Voldemort. But it's more of an adult TR than the scaley snake-faced Voldemort we're all more familiar with.

Rated M for violence, torture, language, and some mild sexual situations.

Dark!Harry, eventual Slash, HP/LV, Manipulative Dumbledore

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Harry Potter and the Descent into Darkness

Harry was alone. He'd never felt so lost and alone in his life. Even when at the Dursley's when he was a young child, he hadn't felt this alone. At least then, alone was all he had ever experienced. He didn't have anything to compare it to. Now he had known friendship and knew what it felt like to have friends and confidants with whom he could trust. Having it all ripped away from him, and being submerged back into that abyss of solitude was crushing.

It was now November 3rd, but his problems had really started on October 31st. Terrible things _always_ happened on Halloween. So of course, he had been wary. Experience had taught Harry to dread this day each year, but he had not seen this coming. Not by a long shot.

He was in his 4th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and things had started out fine enough. Granted, the attack by Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup several weeks before the start of term had been a rather terrible experience, and then there were the foreboding dreams Harry had been having... but actual _school_ had been great, so far. Even their Defense teacher was brilliant. Mad. But brilliant.

So when Harry's name had come shooting out of the Goblet of Fire, naming him one of the Tri-Wizard Champions, he had been stunned into a dumbfounded silence.

The entire school was convinced that he had cheated somehow. That he'd managed to find some way around Dumbledore's age line and had entered his name into the cup. More than that, his cheat had somehow screwed things up so badly that there were two champions chosen to represent Hogwarts when there was only supposed to be one.

The day after the champions were chosen, a reporter from the Daily Prophet named Rita Skeeter had come to interview the four of them. Her article was like a nuke of horror and embarrassment upon his life. It was utter rubbish and gossip drivel, of course, but that didn't stop people from believing it.

The entire school was against him. He was the attention seeking, cheating, liar, who still cried about his parents death sometimes at night, and had serious mental stability issues. But all of this would probably be within his ability to cope with – if it weren't for the abandonment of the two people he had trusted he could trust to always believe him.

Ron was angry. He didn't believe Harry for one minute when he told the redhead that he hadn't put his name into that cup. He was convinced that Harry had found a way around the age line and had entered his name without sharing the information with Ron. That Harry didn't want the added competition. That he didn't want to risk giving Ron the chance for glory of his own.

The stupid sodding git was just so jealous of Harry's fame that he was blind to the truth. The fact that he could honestly believe that Harry would want anything to do with 'eternal glory' stung hard. It showed that his friend really didn't know him much at all.

And then there was Hermione. Even _she_ didn't believe him! She was angry at him for cheating. For doing something that had screwed up the tournament to make four champions instead of three, and she was angry at him for being so reckless that he would do something to put his life in danger. She was _so_ angry that she couldn't see past the fury to listen to his insistence that he hadn't done it in the first place.

It was Saturday and he was hiding away in his dormitory. All of his dorm mates had left for breakfast. None of them bothering to 'wake' him, since none of them were speaking to him. Not that he wanted to go to breakfast anyway. He was sick of the stares and the whispers, and the open mocking from every damn Slytherin in the school.

He lay down in his bed, buried deep within the red quilts and shadowed beneath the heavy drawn curtains that surrounded his four-poster bed. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of all the pain and loneliness he felt. The sense of utter abandonment filled him and he clenched his jaw, taking in sharp breaths through his nose as he tried to push it all away. Turn everything off. Shut everything out.

_Nothingness._

He slowed his breathing and it was coming out in even, deep breaths now. He escaped deep into his mind in a way he hadn't done in years. He used to do this when he was shut away in the cupboard and trying not to cry because of something especially hurtful his relatives had said or done to him, but he had stopped doing it at some point.

As he retreated deeper and deeper into his mind he slowly began to recognize the place. It had been _so long_ since he had done this. He'd utterly forgotten about it. The space was vast and formless. A large white expanse that had an ambiguous floor plane, and white walls surrounding an extremely large empty space. To one distant corner he noticed a cold, dark spot that he hadn't paid any attention to in so many years, that he had honestly forgotten that it was there at all. He examined the dark spot curiously for a moment. His memories of it were foggy and faded with time. It had been _so long_ since he'd last paid this place any mind. He had honestly thought he had imagined the whole thing.

Yet as he thought about this isolated dark corner, he realized that it had _always_ been there. It had always been with him, but it had been completely lost to his awareness for many many years. He remembered some long lost memory of being afraid of this cold dark spot inside himself. That he'd had some... _reason_ why he was scared of it. In his youthful naivety he had thought it something horrible that needed to be shunned and hidden away, but he couldn't remember why.

He knew that at some point, a long time ago, he had begun to push it away though. That he had held it off through a great force of will. Like he had built up some great mental barrier around it to keep it away from him. To keep him separate from the scary dark spot in his mind.

Now that he was actually paying attention to it, he realized he was still doing it. It was like some sort of automatic defense mechanism now. It was just _there._ He just _did it._ It was _always_ doing it. Surrounding the foggy dark corner was an invisible barrier, and he could feel that a lot of his magical power was going towards keeping it there. He wondered how much of his energy had been dedicated to constantly keeping this tiny thing pushed aside for so long.

He examined the dark spot with a speculative eye now. Wondering if there really was a good reason for him to have feared it, or if it was worth the expenditure of energy to keep pushing against the spot. It seemed rather innocuous to him now. Granted, it was _cold_ over there.

His first experiments with approaching the _dark spot_ were comparable to poking it with a long stick. Mentally prodding at it in short, quick gestures. Curiously watching for any sort of response. There was none.

He continued to examine and mentally 'approach' the darkness for some time after that, and found the closer he allowed himself to get to it, the _warmer_ it felt. It wasn't really cold at all. And it felt oddly... _comforting._ It felt almost like a foreign presence, and yet it wasn't a presence that he felt any desire to expel.

He brushed up against it and felt warm and comforted. In his mindscape he imagined himself standing in the vast white room, and the dark spot was foggy and blurry, and yet it had substance. He stroked his hand against it hesitantly and he... he _ liked_ what he felt. It wasn't just a softness in his 'hand', but a shudder that ran through his whole body. A giddy tingle that made him smile his first real smile since the events of Halloween had come to pass.

He's automatic defenses had still been up this whole time. Caging the dark spot into it's own tiny corner, but he decided to lower them now. The dark thing didn't seem threatening at all. He wasn't afraid of it any longer, and saw no reason to exert any of his magical energy just to keep the thing cornered.

He stopped the constant battle his magic had fought against the dark spot for the last however many years and felt as if an _enormous _weight was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He gasped in surprise at the tremendous difference it had made, almost instantly. He couldn't believe how much of his magic had been going towards holding off the dark thing! It was insane!

He wondered suddenly if this was why he'd had such pathetic results in his classwork for the last three years. Had his practical spellwork been impeded by this battle his subconscious had fought with itself all his life?

Harry refocused on the dark thing again now to observe how it reacted to the sudden release of it's prison. It didn't seem to be doing much of anything, really. It was still there, and it still felt... _nice_ to touch it. It hadn't suddenly grown or moved, or lashed out in any way. It still just sat there in his mind's eye, being rather innocuous. Harry wondered why in Merlin's name he had been afraid of the thing in the first place. He realized suddenly that it was probably some childish thing that had no real baring, and he had constructed this subconscious barrier through accidental magic and had held it up through instinct.

It was mind boggling to think that some subconscious accidental magic he'd done when he was only four or five may had been seriously holding him back in his magical education. It was almost disgusting.

He finally emerged out from his inner mind and sighed heavily as he finally acknowledged that he needed to get out of bed. Even if he avoided meals with the rest of the school, he still had homework that needed doing, and he couldn't neglect it any longer.

– –

It was... _incredible_. His mind was _so clear._ His magic was so easy to control and manipulate. He could feel it swirling around him, ebbing and flowing with powerful waves, crashing upon the magic that lie ingrained in the castle around him. He'd never felt so in-tune with magic before in his whole life!

He'd never realized just how much of his magic, and his sub-conscious had been dedicated to the task of fighting against the little dark spot, until he had stopped the battle. Now the magic was always right at his fingertips and everything responded so quickly and easily. His mind was so much clearer now too. He just _understood_ what was written in the books, and what the teachers said. It made so much sense, and he was dumbfounded that he had gone so long just _not getting it._

It was _so obvious!_ How could he have gone so long without seeing the truth? Without understanding what it was he was doing?

Magical theory had always been just beyond his grasp. He could do the spells with enough practice, but he never really understood the how and why of the magics before. But he did now. He could _see_ the magic. _Feel_ it as it worked it's way around and through him. His magic worked with him so easily and the thrill of having such easy control of it was exhilarating.

The last week of classes had been such an incredible experience that it had actually managed to outweigh the mocking and the angry glares that followed him wherever he went.

Each night before he let sleep claim him, he had regulated his breathing and let his awareness slip deep into his mind so he could examine the dark spot some more. He wanted to keep track of any reaction it might have to no longer being fought against, and so far there had been... _none._ It remained the same shape and size and in the same spot, resting deep in the back of his mind.

Why on earth had he wasted so much energy and mental concentration, for _so long_ on fighting this small dark spot in the back of his mind!

He wished he could remember what had caused his younger self to be so afraid of this thing.

He had gradually began to approach the dark spot more and more. His classwork and studies had proved to be great distractions, but he still felt horribly alone. Having his two best friends utterly shun him still stung horribly, but when he let himself approach the dark spot, the horrible ache would fade away. The dark spot filled some of the empty void with a foreign warmth and he would sigh with the slightest bit of contentment.

– –

Another few days passed. Hagrid had him come out into the forest under his invisibility cloak and had shown him the _dragons._ Madam Maxime had been there too, and on his way back to the castle, Harry had run across Igor Karkaroff, so there was no doubt that both Krum and Delacour knew about the dragons as well.

Harry doubted that anyone had bothered to warn Cedric about it.

That night, after seeing the dragons first hand, Harry had had a firecall with Sirius. His godfather warned Harry that Karkaroff was once a Death Eater. He also told Harry that he suspected that whoever put his name into the goblet of fire had done so in the hopes that Harry would end up dead.

People _died_ in this tournament. There was a reason that only wizards of age were allowed to compete. Harry, only at the start of his fourth year, was wholly unprepared for the tasks he would have to face. He simply hadn't been studying magic long enough to have been introduced to even a fraction of the magics that his fellow champions had.

At that point, Harry was still in the process of being utterly horrified by the prospect of having to face off against an enormous _dragon_. Sirius had told him that he knew of a simple way to tackle one, but had been cut off when Harry heard someone coming down into the common room. They had had to end their firecall early, and Harry felt incredibly disappointed by this.

His disappointment shifted into bitter anger when he discovered that the person who had interrupted his call had been none other than _Ron_. _ The jealous, traitorous git who had once claimed to be his best mate._

_He's just an attention-seeking glory hound. _

_All he ever wanted from me was to bask in the cast off light of the 'boy-who-lived'. Once he realized that he was just living in my shadow, he got angry and turned on me._

A little voice inside Harry's head remarked bitterly.

– –

Harry spent every free moment he could find in the next few days, researching dragons. The more he had read about them, the more he realized just how horrifyingly dangerous dragons were. Usually huge teams of wizards were responsible for restraining and subduing the enormous creatures. It took twenty wizards casting simultaneous stunners to actually knock one out.

He set the book he was reading down on his bedside table and lay back in the overstuffed covers and sighed heavily. It was late – probably sometime after midnight – and all of his dorm mates were asleep. He was stressed and quite honestly, really starting to freak out. The task was only a week away and he still had no idea what he was going to do.

He lay back on his pillow, closed his eyes, and escaped into his mindscape. He'd found that spending time near the dark spot calmed his frayed nerves in an oddly pleasant way. He _liked_ being near it. Liked brushing his 'fingers' along it's surface. He'd even begun laying against it. Leaning into it like a giant cushion. It's warmth enveloped him in a wonderful way. It was like it saturated every frayed nerve and calmed them. He could think clearer after being inside his mindscape, and he felt energized and magically rejuvenated after spending time in close proximity to the dark spot.

He escaped to it again, just then, going directly so it and settling himself beside it, feeling it's warmth envelope him. He sighed happily as he relished the feeling of having something there with him. He couldn't quite explain it, but when he was with this small dark spot in his mind, he felt as if he were with someone else. Like he wasn't alone.

He sighed heavily again and without even deciding it do it, he began to speak. He rambled and talked on and on about what had been happening in his life and the stress and worry that filled him as he worried about the task.

He'd never actually done this before. Talking to... well, _himself, _really. As he thought about what he was doing, he knew, rationally, that it was pretty crazy, and yet he did it anyway. He just... he wanted someone to talk to, and even though he knew it was crazy, he really did feel like this little bit of darkness in his mental world of pure white, was a separate person from himself.

After what felt like a very long session of ranting and raving, Harry fell silent and was able to relax into the comforting presence. He felt cleansed, somehow. It felt good to vent. To let it all out. To finally tell _someone_, even if he were really just telling himself.

The dark presence that he lay against seemed to... _shift_ suddenly. It was small, but Harry was keenly aware of the dark spot, and noticed any change in it instantly.

He stiffened and all of his senses went on alert as he mentally observed it for any and all changes.

The dark spot didn't change 'shape' or 'size', but the presence seemed to... _embrace_ Harry, as he was leaning beside it. This was all mental, and any physical manifestation was purely imagined on Harry's part. Much of it didn't really have any sort of physical manifestation at all – it was all just impressions and feelings. But if Harry were to put some sort of physical descriptor to what changed, he would almost say that the presence had just pulled him into a _hug._

Slowly, he relaxed into the calming sensation. The embrace continued and it soothed him in ways he could not possibly describe. Harry never liked to be touched much. He wasn't accustomed to physical contact. The only contact he ever got from the Dursley's was painful or just fundamentally negative. He had never been held or hugged before coming to Hogwarts. So even when someone tried to make physical contact with him now, he always shied away from it. He didn't know how to react, so he just escaped.

But this was different.

He felt no desire to pull away. No discomfort or uncertainty. He didn't feel awkward. There was no embarrassment or urge to get far away and return to his comfort zone. _This was_ his comfort zone.

He let out a long, slow sigh, and felt a mountain of tension melt away with it. The presence wrapped him tighter and it was as if it were wrapping him up entirely and holding him close. He'd never felt more whole, and accepted in his whole life. He loved it. He never wanted it to end.

He wanted to hold the presence back and he found that he was. He and the dark presence held each other for a very long time while Harry's conscious mind lulled away into unconsciousness as he slid into sleep.

– –

The next morning he awoke with what he could only describe as an epiphany. Harry now _knew_ exactly how to handle the dragon. It wasn't a single 'simple spell' so he knew that it wasn't the same thing that Sirius had been thinking of – nor would Sirius ever think to do what Harry was now planning to do. However, even if it had nothing to do with what his godfather had been about to suggest, he knew that his answer was probably a better one anyway. He was absolutely _positive_ that it would work.

First, he needed to make sure he got either the Chinese Fireball, or the Green Welsh. He knew it would work much better on those two breeds than it would the Horntail or the Short-Snout. The Fireball would be the easiest. It would _listen._ Being an eastern liondragon, it would be able to understand the best. The trick now was to make sure that he got it.

Harry was so consumed with his eager planning for the task, that it was nearly a whole day later when he first thought to worry about where this sudden inspiration had come from.

He'd read so many texts on dragons over the past few days that the knowledge, and which book it had come from, had all bled together. He told himself that he must have read it from somewhere in all of those books, but the more he thought on it, the more he was sure that he _hadn't._

In fact, as he continued his search now, he realized he couldn't find a single reference in _any_ books on dragons, that said that a speaker of... of p_arseltongue_ would be able to communicate with one.

Where had the idea come from?

Was it just some idiotic dream, and he was basing all of his plans on something that wouldn't work?

But he was absolutely _positive_ that it would. He just was. So he pressed through the wall of uncertainty and refocused on his current task.

Making sure he got the Fireball.

His job was made easier when he saw Ludo Bagman walking the grounds from the forest that afternoon. He quickly ran after the man and managed to find a quiet, out of the way, spot to talk with him. A voice in the back of Harry's head told him that this was probably 'cheating' but a surprisingly louder voice insisted that his priority was surviving, not winning. He didn't _care_ what he had to do. He just wanted to make it through this alive.

He asked Bagman in as round-about a manner as he could, that if there were multiple things to choose from in the next task, what might be the method used to assign each of those things to a specific champion. Bagman quickly caught on to what Harry was doing, and, thanks to his gambling debts and his stakes in Harry's winning, he eagerly assisted.

It turned out that each contestant would have to reach into a bag and blindly pull out a miniaturized version of the dragon that they would then have to face.

Harry also discovered that, as the youngest of the four champions, he would have to choose last. This greatly complicated his efforts. He wasn't willing to rely on luck of the draw when his chances were only one out of four that he'd get the dragon he wanted.

That night he slipped into his mindscape and recounted his troubles and his concerns to the dark spot while he relaxed back into it's warm, comforting embrace. He could almost swear that it was responding to him from time to time. There weren't words or sounds, but there was the definite impression of _feelings_. Like it was sympathizing with his woes. Like it understood. It was like a mother, holding and rocking a child when he was scared and alone. And yet it was also like a good friend. Or a companion who understood you better than anyone else ever could. One who you could truly trust would always be there for you.

Harry couldn't explain why he felt the way he did. None of it could really be put into words that would make sense to anyone else. Despite the lack of logic, he had no desire to fight it. He felt better than he ever had before. His magic was stronger, and he felt more at one, and more comfortable with himself than he could ever remember feeling in his whole life.

The dark presence held him and calmed his frazzled nerves. It listened to his worries, and it added in little vibes of feeling here and there in a way that made Harry utterly convinced that it really was _listening._ If that made any sense at all... which he knew it didn't.

The next morning Harry woke with a wide grin. It spread across his face and he felt giddy. There was a strong urge to giggle... or maybe cackle. But a moment later he squashed it down and frowned slightly as he let his mind really analyze what he was now planning.

One some level, he knew it wasn't right. That it was... unfair, or something equally ridiculous. Stupid reasons for putting one's life on the line, honestly. He pushed these concerns away by reminding himself that there really would be no benefit at all to the other champions as to which dragon they ended up with. Harry was the only parselmouth in the bunch, and the only one who would benefit from getting the Fireball.

In fact, the fireball was one of the more dangerous of the bunch. The Horntail would be really dangerous too, in the physical sense. It was littered with painful, deadly, spikes, and Hagrid had made it sound like it had an exceptionally nasty disposition – but the range of it's fire breath was actually the smallest of the bunch. The Fireball had the widest and longest range and it wasn't 'fire breath' as much as it was a fiery molten liquid spray.

If he made sure that the other contestants _didn't_ get the fireball, he was really doing them a favor. Really.

After lunch that day Harry followed Cedric Diggory out of the great hall after lunch. The popular Hufflepuff boy was always surrounded by other students – students wearing _Potter Stinks_ badges – but Harry forced himself to push back his self-consciousness and approached the older boy.

"Potter? What's up?" Cedric asked, shooting several of his snickering friends looks that told them to shut up.

"We need to talk. It's important."

Cedric gave him a suspicious, hesitant look but finally nodded his head. He told his friends he'd be back in a minute and followed Harry to an empty classroom. Harry sucked in a deep breath, still unsure if he could pull this off. There was a war waging in his mind over the morality of what he was planning to do, and yet, strangely enough, the part of him fighting against it because he knew it was 'wrong' was surprisingly weak in it's protests. It was as if he were fighting against it only because he felt like he _should_ be fighting it – not because he actually believed that it _was_ _wrong_.

Harry turned to face the older Hufflepuff and put up a rather convincing nervous mask. His real nerves, however, left him almost the instant he committed to really doing it, and instead an excited glee filled the pit of his stomach. He was almost _excited_ to see if he could really do this. If it would really work.

"Cedric, I wanted to warn you."

The older boy narrowed his eyes and the suspicion was back full force.

"I know what the first task is going to be," Harry said, giving the other boy a determined nod and looking directly into his pale gray eyes. He felt the magic swirling around him. It bent to his will effortlessly. He didn't even have to say any words! Not that he had any idea of what spells would allow a person to read someone's mind, anyway. He was doing this entirely on instinct. He really wasn't sure why he knew he could, but he just _knew_ it would work. And it was so easy! Hell, he was barely clutching his wand! He slipped into the other boy's mind with ease and could feel thoughts and emotions swirling around him.

Cedric was eager and excited at the prospect of getting a heads up on what was coming, but he wondered why in Merlin's name, Harry would be telling him any such thing.

"The first task is dragons," Harry continued to say. The older boy was still entirely oblivious to Harry's presence in his mind. Harry had to fight _hard_ against the smirk that tried to spread across his lips. _This is too easy!_

"Dragons!" Cedric exclaimed and his mind filled with panicked thoughts and images of enormous scaled beasts with sharp fangs and walls of fire.

"Yeah, they've got four of them. A Swedish Short-snout, a Hungarian Horntail, a Green Welsh, and a _Chinese Fireball,"_ as Harry spoke the last one he followed the thought in the older boy's mind and encircled it with the strongest sense of dread and loathing he could subtly muster in Cedric's mind. He encased the very _thought_ of it with the strongest desire to avoid it at all costs.

_Don't choose the __Fireball. _

Cedric's expression only showed his utter horror at the idea of fighting a _dragon_ for a moment before he managed to master his face into a committed, if not still rather unnerved, mask. The Hufflepuff's thoughts weren't nearly so ordered or controlled. He was utterly panicking on the inside.

Cedric noted, for a split second, that it was odd that he should be so terrified of the Fireball, but he also knew that the Chinese dragons had insane range with their molten fire breath, and figured that was probably why.

"Why are you telling _me_ this?" Cedric asked suddenly as the suspicion from earlier took hold of his thoughts again.

"When I saw them – the dragon's I mean – I saw Madam Maxime and Karkaroff out there too. If they know, their champions know. It was unfair for you to be the only one of the four of us who didn't know," Harry said with an innocent face and a simple one-shoulder shrug. Cedric looked surprised and mentally commented on how naive Harry was.

Harry had to fight _hard_ against a smug grin.

Naive _indeed._ He mentally chuckled.

Eventually, Cedric accepted Harry's gesture and thanked him for the information. The two parted ways and Harry finally allowed the sly smirk to cross his face.

_Just too easy._

– –

The next day Moody had held Harry after Defense class and it almost seemed as if the man were trying to subtly offer his assistance to Harry. He even went so far as to tell him that _cheating_ was a part of the Tri-Wizard Tournament's historical past time. This mildly soothed some of Harry's conscious, but he was already dedicated enough to his plan that he'd mostly gotten over his moral concerns.

Moody asked Harry if he had a plan for how to tackle the task and actually seemed rather shocked when Harry insisted that he did, and said as much with a surprising amount of confidence.

Moody had looked at him curiously but finally nodded his head and let him go to his next class.

– –

Finding Krum alone was easy enough. The enormous Bulgarian-of-few-words spent a surprisingly large amount of time in the library. The trick was getting to him before his 'fan club' arrived to crowd him.

Harry had easily noted a pattern in what times the Durmstrang student showed up in the library, since Harry himself had been spending so much time in the place lately, and was there waiting for him the next afternoon. He cornered Krum almost instantly because he knew he didn't have any time to waste. He called up the magics around him, loosely gripped his wand in hand at his side and slipped into Krum's mind.

The Durmstrang student was immediately wary and his mind was _filled_ with suspicion. Harry used basically the same story he had with Cedric – with a few necessary modifications. He knew Krum already knew about the dragons, but Krum didn't know that Harry knew that – Harry had been under his invisibility cloak when he saw Karkaroff in the forest. And since Krum didn't want to get his headmaster in trouble, he pretended like he hadn't already known.

After the briefest moment in his mind Krum seemed to notice that something was... _off._ He didn't know _what_ it was, but he mentally registered that something felt strange. Harry kept his stay in Krum's mind very short, and looked around as little as possible so as not to draw attention to his presence.

Krum already had the desire to aim for the Short-snout or the Green, so Harry subtly pushed for the Short-Snout, while adding in the aversion to the Fireball. He also reduced Krum's aversion to the Horntail, and added in the thought that it wouldn't be so bad since it had the shortest range in it's fire.

He left the older boy none the wiser, and with an even more smug grin plastered across his face.

Getting to Fleur Delacour alone seemed an utterly impossible feat. She was always surrounded by a hoard of giggling French schoolgirls, and the group of them glared angry daggers at any boy who had the balls to approach them. Of course, most boys who approached the half-veela, did so as a heap of babbling incoherent hormonal idiocy, so the girls' irritation was clearly warranted.

The task was only one day away at this point and Harry was beginning to feel slightly desperate. He needed to get o Fleur. His chances in the first task were already drastically improved, but Fleur would still get to draw before him, and with his luck, she'd pick the damn Fireball and screw him over.

He had back-up plans, and was at least mildly confident that he could still survive the task with the other dragons... or at least, he really hoped so... but his chances were far, _far_ better if he got the damn Fireball!

He'd spent every morning and evening inside his mind with the dark presence. It gave him strength and encouraged him. Whenever he was feeling hopeless it would make him feel better. It was as if it were somehow telling him that he was strong and that he could do it, even though it had no words to tell him with. He could _feel_ his confidence growing with each visit, and each morning would wake feeling better and more self-assured than the last.

So that morning with only one day left till the task, after a wonderfully invigorating hour of relaxing inside his own mind, he got up out of bed with an eager skip to his step and made his way quickly out into the grounds. He'd seen the Beauxbatons girls out in this part of the grounds studying a lot, and hoped he'd get lucky and find her out here without having to run half-way around the school searching for her.

He grinned widely as he saw her sitting on the grassy lawn with several other girls in light-blue tailored robes. He strode up to the group of them with a confidence he never would have felt before tearing down the barrier he had used to fight against the dark presence. He had always been so shy and insecure. He was _so ruddy happy_ that he didn't feel that way anymore. He was so _sick_ of that person. That stupid, _weak_, little boy.

"Mademoiselle Delacour?" He asked with a confident, but calm smile. The girls sitting around Fleur all looked at him with a mixture of surprise, or annoyance. A quick sweep of the girls surface thoughts didn't help with most of them since they were thinking in French, but their emotions and mental imagery told Harry that they were upset at having their study session interrupted by some _stupid little boy_. But several were surprised at he had managed to come up to Fleur without being a blathering, simpering mess.

"Monsieur Potter?" she asked, raising a single curious eyebrow, but still giving him a rather hesitant and curious look.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your study session, but I have something really important to tell you. It will only take a moment," he said in a sweet, polite tone and an innocent smile.

She narrowed her eyes, and all of her fellow study partners looked suspicious and surprised, but Fleur stood to her feet and joined him about twenty feet away by another tree. Harry was surprised to note how very little her veela aura was effecting him. He easily pushed past the minute effect of irrational desire and slight increase in lustful feelings and urges that her halfblood creature decent caused. He could acknowledge that she was a pretty enough girl, although certainly nothing dramatically greater than any of her friends, or any of the 'pretty' girls at Hogwarts. But he really didn't find himself attracted to her at all. She was just a girl.

He was already wielding his swirling magic with practice ease, and slipped deep into her mind without any effort. She already knew about the dragons, just as he had suspected, although she hadn't been familiar with the specific breeds of dragons they would have to face. Just like Krum, she acted as if she had no idea what the first task would involve, and was quite surprised and impressed with Harry's sense of what was 'right' and 'just'. Krum had simply thought Harry incredibly naive for sharing information, but Fleur thought him noble.

She had no sense of his presence in her mind, and it was an easy matter to plant a strong aversion to the Fireball in her subconscious.

Harry left her quickly and she returned to her school mates, looking back at the younger boy with a curious little grin. Harry couldn't help but look at her over his shoulder and give her a slightly cocky smirk. She rolled her eyes at him and returned to the group of excited, giggling girls.

– –

The task was scheduled for the following afternoon, but only classes from lunch onward were canceled, so Harry sat through charms class that morning in an impatient haze. A huge part of him just wanted to get it over wish. He was anxious and felt impatient. Another part of him was still terrified that his theory on how to tackle the task wouldn't work and that he was going to be fried alive

Despite his strange, inexplicable faith in the parselmagic he planned to use, Harry had also spent quite a bit of time researching fireproofing and shielding charms in the library as a back-up plan.

The class assignment that day in charms was to practice a summoning charm, and Harry had completed it perfectly on his first attempt and saw no point to spend the rest of the class trying to call things from across the room when he already knew he could and instead sat at his desk making every object in his bag fireproof.

The class was clearly struggling with the summoning spell, which Harry found mildly amusing. At the same time, he knew that if he'd tried to perform the spell a month earlier, he probably would have had just as hard a time with it. It truly was amazing how _huge_ a difference it made, now that he wasn't fighting against the dark presence.

Hermione kept shooting him disapproving glares as he sat there silently tapping his wand on the various books, quills, and bound parchment that he'd pulled from his bag. He glanced over at her and glared right back at her.

He made eye contact long enough to discern that she thought he wasn't doing _anything_ at all, and was ignoring the class assignment.

She didn't think he could do it. _Thought he was incompetent. _

She had no faith in his skills or abilities. Thought he was probably failing epically at all of his homework since she hadn't been there for the last month to _do it for him._

Of course, she hadn't thought these things quite so literally, but it was obvious from the general feel and shape of her thoughts and feelings that that was basically what she thought of him. She masked some of her lack of faith in him with concern and the desire to help him better himself, but the fundamental foundation of her opinion of him was clear.

His scowl deepened and anger raged.

Her brow furrowed and it was clear she was confused by the emotions she saw boiling behind his bright emerald eyes.

Their eye contact was broken suddenly by Professor Flitwick coming over and asking Harry about his progress with the summoning spell.

Harry sighed in mild annoyance and turned his focus to one of the apples sitting on the teacher's desk at the front of the room. He pointed his wand and willed the apple to come to him. He didn't even bother to say the _accio_ incantation. He didn't need to. The magic came to him with such ease, that actually bothering to verbalize the spell took more energy than was necessary.

Flitwick squeaked in excitement as he watched the small red fruit fly across the room and directly into Harry's outstretched hand. Harry glanced over at Hermione as he heard her gasp in shock and gave her a smug grin before refocusing on the excited little professor.

– –

Lunch was a subdued affair for him. A tiny, terrified, voice in the back of his head kept wondering if this was the last meal he would ever have, but a larger voice kept telling himself that he was overreacting and that he just needed to calm down and stay focused and he would survive this stupid task.

He forced himself to eat and avoided looking at any of the Gryffindors sitting around him, shooting him looks. Some looked concerned for him. Some annoyed. Harry didn't care. They were all arses as far as he was concerned and they could all go to hell. Their opinion of him didn't matter anyway.

Finally, Professor McGonagall came over to him and led him from the Great Hall, out of the school, across the grounds, and into a tent set up for the champions. The others were already there, and they all looked to be in various states of dread and terror. Fleur looked pale and was pacing back and forth furiously. Cedric looked green. Krum was standing to the side of the tent with his back facing them all and his shoulders hunched and filled with tension.

Harry let out an impatient huff and stood to the side and leaned against a table there.

It felt like ages had passed after that. During the long wait, they could hear all of the students and other spectators arriving and noisily making their way past the tent and entering the stands.

Rita Skeeter even tried to slip into the tent to interview them. Harry had glared at her angrily and was only a second away from hexing her and her photographer into oblivion when Krum yelled at her to get out.

Finally the headmasters and Ludo Bagman entered the tent and the specifics of the task was described to them.

Apparently the dragons were all nesting mothers. Harry wanted to groan at this information. They were going to be brutal and vicious! Each dragon had a nest placed at the far end of the stadium and inside that nest was a golden egg. The champions were to retrieve the golden egg without getting killed.

_Great. Sounds easy._ Harry thought, sarcastically.

So the task was to get past the dragon, not defeat it. That, at least, was a relief. Harry had doubted that he could actually _kill_ the dragon with what he had come prepared with. Getting past it shouldn't be too hard.

The three headmasters and Crouch would be judges. They would award points to the champions based on how quickly they completed the task, the level and proficiency of spells they used, and several other minor factors, like doing all this without damaging the other eggs in the nest.

Harry worried for a moment how the headmasters would score his magical spell-use since he was going to be using parseltongue, but pushed the concern aside. He didn't give a damn about the blasted score. He was doing this to survive, not win. He had no interest in 'eternal glory' or the stupid prize money.

Finally Bagman pulled out a small pouch that was wriggling slightly, as if something alive was crawling around inside it.

One and a time, he had the four champions reach their hands down into the bag and pull out one of the objects. The objects, of course, were the miniaturized version of the dragons. The four breeds of dragon were easy to identify by touch, and Harry watched with glee as Cedric pulled out the Short-Snout, Fluer the Welsh Green, and then Krum the Horntail. They had all avoided the Fireball just as he had wanted.

He quickly had to muffle his grin and pull on a nervous mask as he reached his hand into the bag and pulled out the long, slender, wingless, serpentine dragon.

The fireball had a number '3' around it's neck, so he would go third. He sat in the tent and waited impatiently while Cedric went first, followed by Fleur. He could hear the commentary, but was trapped inside the tent during the actual events. From what he could discern from the commentary, Cedric had transfigured a large rock into a dog and used it to distract the dragon while he went for the egg. He had ended up getting burned in the process and was taken to the medical tent

Fleur attempted to charm her Welsh Green into something of a trance. The dragon wasn't completely subdued, however, and blasted Fleur with fire, setting her robes alight. It sounded like she hadn't gotten burned badly, but was taken to the medical tent anyway.

Finally it was Harry's turn. His heart was thrumming away madly in his chest. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he felt the excitement setting his magic alight around him. It was swirling and dancing and his very skin tingled with magical energy.

His name was called and he made his way out into the rocky stadium.

At first glance, he couldn't see the dragon anywhere, but he could feel it's strong magical presence just around a rocky bend and decided to quickly cast the fireproofing spells on his clothing before the dragon became aware of his presence.

A few intricate wand movements over himself and the silent magics were cast. Next he conjured an invisible magical shield and attached it to his left forearm so he could hold it up and shield his face if necessary. The magic surged through him with such ease that it made him feel giddy and almost lightheaded with eager anticipation. He was almost surprised to find just how _excited_ he felt at that moment to see if he could really pull this off.

Finally, feeling as prepared as he could, he began to climb cautiously around the rocks. He came around the bend and heard a great threatening hissing sound fill the air. It was a strange sound. He understood words within those hisses but they they were distorted slightly. Almost like hearing someone speak English with a thick accent.

_MY eggs. Protect. Must defend. Disgusting humans. Taking my eggs from me. They'll pay. Fire. Burning fire. Insolent puny creatures. Defiant. Ignorant._

Harry came into the dragon's sight and it roared in anger. It was a split second from spewing a fountain of molten fiery liquid at him when he yelled out. _§STOP!§_ he called out in a powerful commanding voice and laced with a surge of persuasion magic.

The beast froze, stunned and pulled back, eying him cautiously.

He began to walk, cautiously along the rocky pass, always facing it and never breaking eye contact with it. It hissed angrily and curled it's body into a defensive position as he inched it's way closer to the nest. It was hissing angry words at him, telling him that the nest was _HER'S_ and that she wouldn't allow anyone to harm her eggs.

_§I do not wish to harm your eggs!§_ He said in that same, loud, commanding tone that left no room to doubt his words. _§One of the eggs within your clutch is an impostor! It is not one of your eggs. It threatens your young! It will hatch first and then smash all of your eggs to destroy it's competition! I am here to aid you. I will take the impostor egg.§_

_§You will not touch my eggs!§_ the beast hissed back.

_§I will not. You're eggs will remain untouched!§_ Harry called out loudly. He was still making his way closer and closer to the nest. _§YOU WILL NOT HARM ME! YOU WILL PULL BACK!§ _Harry commanded again, and the magic surged around the words and ensnared the dragon. It hissed loudly in protest and shook it's head, but it began to walk backwards, leaving more and more space between it and Harry.

Harry was distinctly aware of the total and utter silence of the stands around him. Even Bagman's commentary had ceased. His display had clearly stunned the audience, but he wasn't going to care about that. Everyone already hated him, and the students and teachers of Hogwarts were already aware that he was a parselmouth.

Harry made his way to the nest, slowly and steadily, never once turning away from the dragon or breaking eye contact. The beast was clearly struggling against the command and was watching him carefully for any signs that he might harm her eggs.

Harry reached out towards the nest and the dragon arched and crouched menacingly. Harry hissed angrily as the display of aggression and the dragon began to back down again. His hand touched the golden egg and he carefully scooped it up.

Still with the same slow caution that he'd used in approaching the nest, he began to climb back away from it. The dragon was still tensed, but it was able to identify that the golden egg he carried was, in fact, not one of hers, so she did not fight the commands holding her and let him pass. He got a decent enough distance away and hissed that she could return to her nest. She did so quickly, coiling her long curvy body around the nest defensively and snarling angrily at the stands of people elevated above the outside of the stadium.

Finally confident that he was in the clear, he raced away and back to the start and through the exit.

It took a moment, but the stands erupted into cheers and Ludo Bagman finally resumed his commentary, exclaiming over Harry's surprising performance.

– –

Reaction to his performance had been mixed. Dumbledore, apparently, didn't approve of him using _p__arseltongue_ in such a public setting, but didn't voice his disapproval openly, but rather though those annoying subtle indirect hints he always seemed to use.

He had also given Harry a 9.0 in his score, while Madam Maxime and Karkaroff had both given him perfect 10's. Crouch gave him a 9.5. Harry found it amusing that the two competitors had actually given him a perfect score when his own headmaster had deducted points for publicly using a 'dark' skill – even if it was to keep from being eaten or burned alive.

_Nice._ Harry scoffed bitterly. Neither Maxime or Karkaroff had ended up giving any of the other competitors, besides their own, perfect 10s, so Harry felt rather pleased with his performance.

After the scores were awarded and the champions were finally allowed to leave the tent and head back to the castle, Moody walked with Harry and questioned him about the performance.

"You mean you didn't know?" Harry responded, rather surprised that the defense teacher had _no idea_ that Harry was a parselmouth.

"How the devil would I have known something like that?" the grizzled old auror asked indignantly.

"Oh... well, I just figured Dumbledore would have told you... I mean, he _did_ tell you about the basilisk in my second year, right?"

"Basilisk!" Moody exclaimed in confused shock.

Harry gaped at the man. "He didn't tell you!" He couldn't believe that Dumbledore hadn't told the defense teacher about it, but perhaps Dumbledore avoided telling his prospective defense teachers about the miserable events that lead to any of the previous teacher's departures from the position.

"Tell me what, Potter?"

"In my second year I discovered the Chamber of Secrets beneath the school. One of the students was being possessed by this evil old artifact and it was controlling her in an attempt to kill the muggleborns. She ended up down in the chamber while the artifact tried to possess her body and drain all of her magic.

"I had realized that year that I'm a parselmouth, and it was because of that, that I was able to get down into the chamber. There was a giant basilisk down there and I... well, I killed it. But all year long I'd heard it hissing as it crawled through the pipes and secret passages of the castle. Always hissing angry things, and I was the only one who could hear and understand it."

Moody was staring at Harry with surprised shock, and the utterly stunned expression was odd to see on the older wizard's scarred features.

It took a few minutes of continued walking towards the castle for Moody to shake himself from his stupor and speak again.

"That was still reckless of you, Potter," he said, finally.

"Huh? What was?"

"Using parseltongue in front of all those people. Reckless, I say!"

"How so?" Harry asked, confused.

"Not many people are going to take kindly to you being a parselmouth."

Harry scowled. "Hell if I care. I already have the whole blasted world hating me. Everyone in the school, third year and up, already knew I'm a parselmouth."

"Maybe, but they had clearly forgotten about it. You just threw a big flashing reminder in their faces. Parseltongue is a dark art, Potter. People won't take too kindly to the idea of their savior practicing something like that."

"Pfft. Like I care. I never volunteered to be their ruddy savior."

Moody narrowed his eyes and gave Harry a speculative look. "It doesn't bother you? That you used something considered _dark_ to win?"

"I did what I had to to survive!" Harry argued defensively. "Besides, I hardly see how it's dark. So I can speak to snakes. Big deal. Magic is about intent and how you use it. Light and dark is relative. If I had to use dark arts to survive, then so be it. It's better than ending up as dragon food, and that magic just comes to me so naturally. It's easy and..." Harry said but froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth and looked over at his defense teacher hesitantly – worried, suddenly, that the man wouldn't approve of what he'd just said.

Oddly enough, the corner's of Moody's mouth were turned up in a wry, approving grin. The old man nodded and quickly changed the subject for Harry's sake. He was grateful.

– –


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKRowling. Beta pass by Clemex.

– –

The rest of the school treated him... _oddly_ after that.

Everyone was still staring at him, but the looks were wary and hesitant. The Slytherins, especially, were all giving him strange looks. They weren't taunting him nearly as much though, and for that he was grateful. The Hufflepuffs still glared angrily at him. He figured it was a mixture of them not trusting someone with such a blatantly _dark_ talent, combined with the fact that his near-perfect performance only put Cedric's performance that much more into the shadows of obscurity.

The fact that every time one of them scowled at him, he responded by smirking smugly at them, probably didn't help much either, but he liked goading a reaction out of them. Anytime one of them actually got the guts to try and say something obnoxious to him, or show off one of those idiotic _Potter Stinks_ badges, he'd hiss at them, and they'd practically wet their pants trying to get away.

Harry laughed at how ridiculously terrified the children at school seemed to be of parseltongue. He also delighted in his new discovery of the parseltongue magics he had access to.

It was a wonder to him that he'd never realized he could do it before. But he acknowledged to himself that before very recently, he had tried to pretend with all his might that he didn't possess the strange dark skill at all. He had wanted so badly to just _be normal_ that he had completely ignored the powerful skill.

But he no longer feared it. It was a dead useful ability. The most remarkable thing he discovered about calling on his magic using parseltongue was that he had no need to use a wand when he did it. A quiet hiss and a little wiggle of his fingers and he could direct the ebb and flow of his magic in dozens of different ways.

Harry realized that his new knowledge and awareness of the parselmagic had undoubtedly come from the dark presence in his mind, and it got him wondering. Was the dark presence the source of his ability to use parseltongue?

If it were, he realized that the prospects were mildly concerning. The headmaster had told him at the end of his second year, that Harry had gained some of Voldemort's powers the night the man had given him his scar. Was the dark presence those powers that he had gotten from Voldemort?

It would certainly explain why he might have been afraid of the power when he was younger. If the dark presence was associated with his parent's murder. But there didn't seem to be anything about it to fear now. It was _his_ power now. He didn't care where it had come from originally. He wasn't going to be afraid of it any longer. He wasn't going to hide from it, or exert all his energy fighting against it when it wasn't even a threat.

Embracing it was so much easier and it made him so much stronger. He felt better. Happier. More confident. His magic came to him with incredible ease, and it was so much more powerful. His mind worked better and he understood things so much faster.

He refused to give that up just because the power might have originally come from Voldemort. So what. It was _his_ power now. It was _his_ and he wasn't going to give it up. He liked it too much. It felt too good.

Still, when Harry went to bed that night and wrapped himself in the presence, he told it of his concerns. His theory on where it had come from. His assumption that the power had once been Voldemort's before it became Harry's. The presence didn't respond much. It seemed hesitant, and Harry almost got the impression that it was worried.

The presence didn't want to be separated from Harry again. It was afraid that Harry would build the walls back up and it would be left alone again. Harry could just _sense_ that this was true and quickly assured the presence that he had no intention of rebuilding the wall.

His assurances seemed to calm the presence's worries because it embraced him with even greater warmth. It almost seemed that the presence was thanking him. It didn't want to be abandoned. It didn't want to be alone again, and neither did Harry.

– –

The next day the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had joint DADA and Harry trudged out of bed and dragged himself to class, after skipping breakfast. He wasn't really avoiding breakfast because he felt he needed to hide from all the hushed whispering and questioning eyes. All self-conscious hesitancy in him was greatly over-ruled by a powerful irritation and anger at anyone stupid enough to confront him on his use of 'dark' magic, or anyone idiotic enough to publicly mock him. So no - he wasn't avoiding breakfast to hide; he was avoiding it to keep himself from hexing someone and ending up with a detention.

But now he was sitting in Defense class, surrounded by curious, questioning, and even _fearful _eyes. He sighed in frustration and refocused on Professor Moody's lecture.

"In our world there are three magical affiliations. The light. The dark. And the neutrals. Most magic is neutral, and can be used easily by just about anyone. Most wizards are neutral-focused wizards, but some wizards feel a powerful tug, pulling on their magic and calling them to one of the two outer sides. These wizards will have a natural affinity for the magic of their chosen side and will find performing spells of that nature easier.

"Anyone can cast any type of magic if they're powerful enough and bother to learn it. But a wizard's affinity for certain casts of magic will make it easier or harder for them to learn and perform certain spells.

"A dark wizard finds the casting of dark magic natural to them. It feels _right_ to them, and the spells come to them with great ease. This means that they can cast dark spells faster and without exerting a lot of energy. Their magical energy reserves last the longest when they're casting dark magic.

"A neutral wizard will have a much harder time casting specifically dark or light spells. when a neutral wizard casts dark spells, those spells will cause a much greater drain on that wizard's magical reserves and will take longer to cast.

"So if you're a neutral or a light wizard, dueling against a dark wizard, and he's throwing dark hexes and curses at you, even if you know those same dark spells, he will be much better and faster at casting those spells than you. You're much better off sticking to neutral spells, if you have an affinity for neutral magic, or light spells if you're affinity is for light magic. You'll be able to cast faster, and it won't drain your magic nearly as fast.

"Certain shields and defensive spells are specifically _light_ in nature. If you're natural magic state is neutral, you'll have more trouble with these light spells than neutral shield charms. The Patronus is a prime example. It is a very powerful _light_ affinity spell. It's one of the reasons that it's considered so hard to learn. Some people's magic simply doesn't want to cooperate with the spell." Moody said as he stood at the head of the classroom, leaning slightly against his desk to better support his wooden leg.

"Does that mean that most dark wizards can't defend themselves against dark creatures like dementors?" one Ravenclaw girl asked with a surprised tone.

"Not necessarily. The spell is _harder_ for a dark wizard to learn and perform than a light wizard, but like I said, _any_ wizard can learn _any_ spell if they're powerful enough, and dedicated to mastering it. And having to spend any extended time around dementors is a great incentive to master the spell," Moody said giving them all a rather pointed look.

Another Ravenclaw girl towards the back rose her hand and Moody nodded and called to her.

"How does a person's magic get aligned with light, dark, or neutral?"

"Good question," he said in his gruff voice. "As young as you all are right now, chances are you're all still pretty neutral in your magics. You're magical affinity is developed over time due to a combination of different factors. First is your birth. Everyone is born more likely to go one way or another based on the affinity of their parents, but this can be overpowered by the other factors. One of those factors is the way your raised, and the other is free will. You consciously choose what type of magics you use and practice more often than others, and the more you work on spells that lean towards one side or the other, your affinity for that side will increase."

Hermione raised her hand and Moody nodded towards her.

"So... it's a battle between nature versus nurture?" she said, and the old wizard raised a single eyebrow and motioning for her to continue. "Well... it's like, if a wizard was born to a dark family – everyone in their family before them had always been dark, but say, this wizard was raised differently, or personally chose go light, they still could."

Hermione's comment made Harry instantly think of his godfather Sirius and he sighed. Harry hadn't heard from Sirius since the interrupted firecall several weeks earlier.

"Correct, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. The truth could be said for someone who comes from a light family, but is raised by someone else. Say, for example, an orphan. It may be in his blood to be light, but if he's raised a certain way, or simply chooses a certain path, he could easily end up with an affinity for dark magic. In any case, at your current stage in your magical education, it's unlikely that many of you have much of an affinity for either light or dark."

"I bet some of the Slytherin's already have an affinity for the dark," Ron muttered quietly to Seamus who was sitting beside him. Harry rolled his eyes at the redhead's comment and sighed. He felt the prickling sensation on the back of his neck that suggested someone was staring at him. He glanced around and saw that there were several sets of eyes looking at him in varying degrees of wary concern. He realized suddenly how they were interpreting Moody's comments as a direct relationship to _him _and scowled at them.

He didn't exactly appreciate his Defense teacher fueling the already blazing fire of speculation on his potential status as a dark wizard.

However, most odd was the realization that being accused of being dark didn't nearly horrify him as much as it once did. People were just ignorant sheep. Let them think what they wanted. It didn't matter to him. He had survived the first task, and came out of it with the best time and the highest score. What business was it of there's how he chose to do it?

The same Ravenclaw from earlier rose her hand again and Moody jerked his chin towards her.

"Um... is there a way to tell what a person's affinity is? A spell or something?"

"There is, but its difficult to cast. Takes a lot of focus. If cast properly, a colored aura will appear around the person. White for neutral. Blue for light, and red for dark. The color can be a light-blue or pink-ish color if the person's magic is more neutral than not, and the slight coloration will denote the strength with which their magics lean towards one direction or another."

– –

"Harry, we want to talk," Hermione said as she came up behind him just after he came in through the portrait hole that evening after dinner.

Harry scowled but quickly mastered his expression into a blank mask and turned to face Hermione, and Ron behind her.

"What?" Harry asked sharply. Ron and Hermione both flinched at his harsh tone.

"Um, maybe we could talk somewhere more private?" Hermione asked timidly as she glanced around at all of the sets of curious eyes, currently trained on the once-golden-trio. Harry huffed in annoyance but did a quick sweep of the room, spotting Dean, Seamus, and Neville in various spots around them.

"Sure," Harry said with a jerk of his chin towards the stairs. He hurried his way up the stairs, not bothering to look back and make sure they were following. He could tell they were without looking. Their magical auras pushed against his own, telling him exactly where they were in relation to himself.

Harry walked straight towards his bed, but sat down in the desk chair beside it. He casually relaxed back in the chair and crossed his left leg over his right knee, waiting with false patience as the other two scrambled in behind him.

Ron sat down on top of his own bed, which was directly opposite Harry's, while Hermione pulled out Ron's desk chair and sat down in it. Neither of his once-friends could meet his eyes. He wondered if they had finally caught on.

"You wanted something?" Harry asked with an air of annoyed impatience.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, and neither seemed to quite know what to say, or which one of them should say it. Finally Ron spoke. Harry was honestly surprised. He had expected Hermione to have to be the one to drag Ron in.

"You didn't really put your name in that cup, did you?" Ron mumbled as he kept his eyes down.

"Finally wised up, have you?" Harry bit out in a harsh voice. "What brought on the change of heart?"

"Well, I just figure, no one in their right mind would really want to go up against a dragon like that," Ron mumbled.

"You wanted to," Harry pointed out instantly, and Ron's ears went pink. "You wanted the fame and glory. You wanted it _so bad_ that you forgot that _I didn't _want it."

"I know, Harry. I'm sorry!"

"No Ron! No. _I'm sorry_ just isn't enough this time! Your were supposed to be my best mate. You're supposed to _know me_. How could you possibly believe that I would put _fame, glory, and money _over our friendship!"

Harry paused then and turned on Hermione. "And you! I know I have an 'unhealthy disregard for the rules' and tend to ignore them and put myself in danger because of it, but when have I ever done that for some sort of 'so-called' personal gain like this stupid tournament?

"Every time I put myself in danger and ignored the rules, it was to save someone else who was in trouble! The fact that either of you could honestly believe that I would put my name in that cup and put my life on the line just for _fame_" he sneered the word with loathing, "just proves that neither of you know me, or _trust me_!"

"Harry! I'm so, so, sorry!" Hermione said, jumping to her feet.

"No! You two abandoned me when I needed you more than ever! Do you realize why I probably got entered in this stupid tournament? Someone wants me dead! Someone is hoping that I'll end up getting killed during one of the tasks and they'll be rid of me and it'll look like an accident! Give me one good reason why I should forgive either of you?"

"I'm so sorry, Harry! We weren't thinking!" Hermione said and there were tears coming down her cheeks now.

"Yeah, that much is obvious," Harry said with a hard glare.

Ron and Hermione shared a desperate look before turning back to Harry beseechingly.

"What can we do, Harry?" Hermione said in a small desperate voice. "What can I say to make this up to you?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a long hard look. "I don't know." he said in a cold voice. "I really don't know."

"I'm really, _really_ sorry mate!" Ron said ducking his head and shaking it sadly. "I was a real git and an idiot. I should have believed you when you told me you didn't do it. I was just... I was stupid. I was so angry that you got one more thing to be famous over while..."

"While you just sit in my shadow?" Harry finished for him. His voice was strangely cold. It wasn't something that either Ron or Hermione were used to hearing in Harry's voice. Ron looked up, startled, but eventually he nodded his head.

"You know I don't _want_ my 'fame' right?" Harry bit out rhetorically. His voice was still flat and cold. It was... wrong, somehow. "The only reason I'm _famous _is because I didn't die. How stupid is that? Every time I hear the phrase 'boy-who-lived' all it does it serve to remind me that I'm alive, and my parents are dead. I'm famous for something I don't even remember, and I _despise_ every minute of it." he ended with a frightfully hard hiss.

He sat back and let his leg lay relaxed, crossed across the other. "If you really _knew me_ like my best friends should, you would have realized that. You should have known that I don't revel in fame. I already have so bloody much of it, and I hate it. Why the hell would I go seeking _more_ of it? No one I care about is in danger because of this tournament. I don't need to save anyone, or protect anything, or stop anyone from doing something. I could have just sat back and had a boring, simple school year for once, but _no!_ No, someone stuck my name in that damned cup, and instead of being there for me, _you two_ DITCHED ME!" he ended with a harsh raised voice that made them both flinch.

Harry closed his eyes and locked his jaw. He let out a slow breath, trying to release the anger that was boiling just under the surface. He could feel his magic swirling menacingly and he suddenly became aware of there being something _more_ to it. It wasn't just _his_ magic that was angry.

His eyes popped open and he felt his heart racing slightly as he became aware of just how familiar the extra presence he felt was. It was the dark presence that existed deep inside his mind. But it wasn't deep inside anything at that moment. It was out on the surface and swirling angrily around him. He got a protective vibe from it. It was defensive and angry.

He was stunned. Had the dark presence come out to try and protect him? Defend him from whatever it was that was making Harry so angry?

Harry started to forcefully calm down and he felt the dark presence retreating immediately. This was something he was going to have to examine in more depth, and soon.

He stood up and the movement was so sudden that both Hermione and Ron jumped slightly.

"Go," Harry said, shortly as he turned away from the pair of them.

"But Harry!" Hermione began to plead but he held his hand up and finally met her eyes. Instinctively, he skimmed through her surface thoughts and found that she truly was repentant. She felt horrible for how she had treated him and truly felt like she had abandoned him. But she was also worried about his recent behavior and wanted to confront him about his use of parseltongue in the tournament. Harry scowled.

"I'll think about it. I need time. Leave me alone for a while, alright?" he said, trying to mask the anger that had flared up at her thoughts.

Sadly, Hermione nodded her head and turned to go. Ron hesitated for a moment before sighing and following behind Hermione.

Once the pair of them were gone Harry walked over to the side of his bed and sat down. He was conflicted. He knew deep down that he would probably never trust the two of them ever again. He just didn't think he could. He couldn't trust that they wouldn't find some other reason to abandon him when he needed them most. He couldn't rely on them. If he did, he would only be disappointed and left high and dry when most desperate. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

His mind wandered to the strange flare up of the dark presence's magic. Had he somehow called upon the magic? That thought almost excited him a bit. If it really was a bit of Voldemort's power, deep inside him, and he could control and wield it...

He paused. He shouldn't be excited about that. He knew he shouldn't. It should disturb him. Scare or confuse him. This was something he should be cautious about, not _excited!_ This was a bit of _Voldemort's power!_ Voldemort was evil! He was a psychotic lunatic murderer! Right?

Yes! He murdered Harry's parents. He killed and tortured hundreds, maybe even thousands of people! He started a bloody war for Merlin's sake! Didn't it used to scare Harry when he worried that he might have anything in common with Voldemort? The idea that he and Voldemort might be alike in _any way_ had horrified Harry, and now he was _excited_ at the prospect of being able to wield some of the Dark Lord's power?

Maybe there _was_ something wrong with him.

Had he changed so much? It had only been a month, but Hermione's thoughts showed that she had noticed a difference in his behavior.

Of course he was acting differently! He wasn't nearly as self-conscious or miserable as he used to be, and he had stopped letting what other people thought dictate his actions! A little confidence can go a long way in changing a person's outward behavior. And just because he wasn't afraid of his own shadow, or cowering from his own power didn't mean he was going to end up an evil megalomaniac like Voldemort!

It didn't matter where the power had come from. It was Harry's now. If he could learn to wield it, then he should!

He nodded his head in determination. He wanted to lay down and escape into his mind right then and there to go investigate the dark presence, but held off. It was still early in the evening, and he tended to lose track of time when he went into his mindscape at night, and he usually fell asleep that way. He had homework to do so he sighed heavily and got back up off the bed and grabbed his bag. He'd get his work done and out of the way with plans of doing his investigation as soon as it was all done.

– –

Harry was frustrated by how long it had taken him to finally get to bed that night. Seamus had needed to borrow his notes from Charms, and then Neville had actually asked him for help on his Defense essay. It wasn't very often that Nevile actually asked for help. The quiet boy was obviously stressed that he had been having so much trouble with the spells they were covering and had seen how Harry had performed them with such ease in the class practicals.

Despite the temptation to blow the other boy off, Neville had always been generally kind to Harry and even when the whole school was in the process of shunning him, Neville had still been nice to him, and partnered with him in classes, so he sat down and helped Neville as much as he could.

Finally he escaped all of his dorm mates, drew back the hangings around his bed and sunk down into the mountain of overstuffed pillows and comforters. He closed his eyes, regulated his breathing, and instantly slipped into the depths of his mindscape.

It felt warmer and more welcoming there than it used to. It had been slowly growing more and more comfortable as time had progressed. He liked it there. The small dark mass wasn't quite so formless anymore. It had once been blurry and vague. Now it was more like a mist surrounding something more tangible. Small strands of darkness stretched out from the base of it like vines climbing along the ground.

Harry cocked his head to the side and examined the changes curiously. Some part of him thought he should probably be disturbed by this new development and he was honestly a little unsettled on how very non-disturbed he was. He didn't mind that it had changed. He wasn't even bothered by the very obvious _growth_ it had sustained. Rather, instead he was curious about it. He made his way closer and examined it more in depth.

It still had aspects of the formless 'cushion' that he had relaxed in for the last month, but there was more to it now, and it was larger; more spread out.

He knelt down and reached out, caressing against it in an oddly affectionate gesture. It felt so... _nice._ Comfortable. It felt like _home_... whatever that felt like.

Harry used to think that Hogwarts felt like home, but he wasn't so sure anymore. The Dursley's house had certainly never felt like home. He knew that for sure. But here... he felt like he belonged here. Of course, _here_ wasn't really a physical place, so it couldn't really be home, but it felt more like home than anything else ever had.

Harry leaned back into the dark mass and relaxed. He felt all of the tension of the day melt away instantly and he sighed happily. He stretched his hand out along the 'ground' and ran his fingers along one of the dark tendrils that had extended out from the mass and spread across the white, ambiguous, floor plane.

It _twitched_ slightly as he touched it. A surge of warm glee shot through him at the contact. The tendril inched closer to him and he wrapped it around his finger. Bursts of electric tingles shot through him and his breath caught in startled surprise at the pleasing sensation. The presence was pleased as well, and they reveled in the shockingly glorious joint experience. He felt whole with it in that moment. Connecting with it in this more direct way filled him with such a strong and _wonderful_ feeling.

He reached out his other hand and found one of the other tendrils. He wrapped his hand around it and was filled with another powerful jolt of pleasant tingles. He released a slow, shuttering breath as the warmth surged pleasantly through his gut.

_Merlin, it feels so good!_ He mentally gasped.

He sank back into the presence and pulled the tendrils up with his hands, crossing his arms across his chest and wrapping himself up in the dark inky form. He gasped and moaned out at how glorious it felt as he literally wrapped himself with the dark presence.

He never wanted the sensation to end. He never wanted to let go... He melted into the wonderful feeling and slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

– –

"_My lord, if we could simply do it without the boy –"_

"_No!" he hissed angrily. Insolent fools! How dare they question him? "I want the boy! Barty, Report!"_

"_Yes my lord," the man ran forward and knelt down, bowing his head and then looking up through his eyelashes reverently. "The boy survived the first task and our plans are moving along."_

"_Good, good. What did you have to do to guarantee the boy's survival? It was dragons, was it not?"_

"_I did nothing sir. Actually, something quite surprising was revealed during the first task."_

_His curiosity was peaked. He hadn't expected the boy to make it past the first task without some sort of intervention. But then again, the damned Potter brat did seem to have Felix Felicis running through his veins._

"_What, exactly, was revealed?" he sneered curiously._

"_The boy... he is a parseltongue."_

_He blinked in shock and disbelief._

"_What!" he hissed._

"_He... he made it passed the dragon without so much as a single scratch on him. It was as if he commanded the beast to stand down. He hissed at it in parseltongue, and walked right past it, grabbed the golden egg, and walked right back to the exit."_

_A parseltongue?_

_How was that possible? How could the boy, possibly, be a parseltongue? He was positive he knew of all the lines that had retained any trace of old naga blood, and the Potters most certainly weren't one. He had a Black as an ancestor, but the last of the Black line to show any signs of it died over 300 years ago. The boy's mother was a muggleborn, so it wasn't from her..._

"_Apparently the boy has always had the talent – or at least he has had it as long as he can remember. He even used the skill to gain access to the Chamber of Secrets in his second year."_

_Stunned shock consumed him. The boy discovered the chamber? And in his second year! He hadn't discovered it until his fifth, and that was after years of dedicated searching. But... surely the boy couldn't have gained control over the basilisk?_

"_The Chamber! Did you hear any word of a basilisk?" he hissed out angrily._

"_Dead. The boy killed it."_

"_WHAT!"_ _he screamed. Fury raged within him. How could all of this happened and he had heard nothing of it? The Chamber had been discovered? The basilisk, destroyed? "The boy did this in his __**second year?**__" he said with stunned disbelief. Surely it wasn't possible. A mere boy of twelve could never hope to defeat Salazar's great basilisk. That creature was more fearsome than..._

_He growled in frustration and anger. _

_He was so weak right now! He hated how weak he felt. How helpless he was. How much time he had wasted. He had things to do! Important tasks that only he could accomplish, and instead he had to waste his time and efforts on a child! To make matter worse, was reduced to depending on the likes of Wormtail. It was disgusting! _

_Barty was better, at least, but he was often gone._

_This pathetic vessel he had created contained him, but his connection to his magic was still so weak, and erratic at best. The simplest of spells would leave him exhausted. He needed the boy's blood! _

_If he could just get the boy he could be restored to his former glory and resume his work._

Harry blinked his eyes and squinted against the bright sunlight pouring in through the small part in his bed hangings. He felt oddly... _tingly._ Sort of... _giddy._ It was weird. At first he didn't remember anything odd, but then the images flitted through his mind and he remembered the dream.

He went over the images and frowned. On one hand, he was almost positive he'd had a vision... what he had dreamed about was the same as the visions he had had at the end of the summer. It was in the same house. The same _room_. And it had Wormtail and that other man who he didn't recognize. What had Voldemort called him?

And yet the feel of the vision was entirely different too.

Harry had never had a vision that he didn't wake from in agonizing pain. His scar would always hurt horribly after a vision. He would always wake up from one with his head on fire and pounding horribly, and he'd feel sick in every way possible.

But right now he felt fine. Great, even. Well rested and energized.

He reached his hand up and brushed his fingers gently over his scar. It tingled pleasantly.

That was... weird.

He couldn't ever remember his scar feeling like that. It had burned and itched and throbbed, but it had never felt _good._

The skin around the scar felt warm to the touch, but it didn't feel inflamed like it usually did after a vision.

Perhaps it hadn't been a real vision? Was it just a dream? Just his subconscious putting together familiar things and piecing it into something new?

Harry didn't know.

– –

Another week came and went. Harry had opened the egg that he had gotten from the first task several times, but had no idea what to make of it. It screeched horribly when opened, and the noise was entirely unintelligible.

During the first week after the task he had considered visiting Hagrid at some point, but the half-giant had been a bit skittish around him in class since his performance with the parseltongue. He hid it well and still made friendly conversation with Harry when he approached the large man in class, but Harry could see the change in Hagrid's posture. Harry saw the way Hagrid looked at him out of the corner of his eyes sometimes with concern and worry.

Harry wanted to believe he was just being paranoid and reading too much into things, but he couldn't entirely convince himself of that.

He wasn't getting on any better with Ron or Hermione either. They had both tried to speak with him from time to time, but he just wasn't ready to let either of them back in yet. He wasn't sure if he _ever_ would feel ready. Harry was sure that if he had actually been _feeling_ as alone as he actually was, that he probably would have gone running back to them by now, but he just didn't feel the need. He didn't feel alone. He spent every night wrapped up tight in his shadowy companion. And it's presence in his day to day life was growing. _Literally._

The shape and size of the dark presence in his mind had increased slowly in size each passing day. The tendrils reached out for him now when he sunk down into his mindscape each night. They wrapped around him on their own and he felt... he felt wanted. He felt... needed. And being in it's embrace felt so... _good._

As the days passed, he began to feel it's presence even when _awake_. He didn't have to sink into his mind to reach out to it, he could call it it even when conscious. And he did.

It was small at first. Tiny pin pricks of awareness in the back of his mind during classes or meals; but it was enough that he didn't feel alone. He felt like there was always someone there with him, keeping him company in the back of his mind.

In the beginning, he would only get tiny inklings of it's feelings. Impressions of it's thoughts. It's support of him. It's encouragement. The frequency and duration of it's presence grew as the days passed, and so did his perception of it's thoughts and feelings. It's awareness was increasing and he could feel it. By the end of the second week since the first task, it was keeping him company during the majority of his classes.

It gave him hints when he struggled with things in class. It empathized with his anger when his fellow students would confront him or openly mock him. It agreed with his anger. At times, it even stoked it, and it would snicker at his snide mental remarks. He had developed a running commentary of dry sarcasm, fueled by his own bitter resentment that festered inside him, and his companion reveled in his snide sense of humor.

The interactions between Harry and his dark companion had not been verbal in any literal sense. The presence merely communicated through ideas, emotions, and impressions. Or at least, they had been up until this point.

It was now December 9th and Harry had Potions. Harry's performance had improved drastically in all of his classes since he had taken down the barrier that had been holding back his dark companion, but his practical performance in Potions had still been rather abysmal.

A better connection to, and increased understanding of his magic had helped him in most of his other classes, but it did not aid him in brewing potions. His mental clarity and his increased capacity to read, understand, and retain his textbook information had helped with the theory, and at least his written work had been better. But since Harry had continued to avoid Ron, he had been partnering with Neville the last six weeks, and any advantage Harry's improved understanding of potions was destroyed by Neville's nerves.

Because of this, Snape had banished most of their in-class work during the past month, and they'd gotten no credit for it. It was something that Harry found entirely infuriating. He was sick of the greasy git always singling him out.

He arrived to class alone and took the seat beside Neville that he had taken every class for the last 6 weeks. Ron shot him a sad look and sighed before he started to dig into his bag for some of his supplies.

The chimes sounded and Snape strode quickly into the room, black robes billowing behind him and came to stand at the front of the class.

"Exams are just around the corner," he began in a quiet, deadly, voice. "I dare say I doubt many of you dunderheads are even remotely prepared for them."

His hard black eyes trailed across the class, piercing each of them with their icy glare. He sneered disdainfully before taking a few steps forward. "Shall we see just how prepared you are?"

The class sat in utter silence waiting for it to begin. It was _never_ a good thing when Snape spontaneously decided to 'test' them.

"Goyle! What is the antidote to the swelling solution?"

Goyle jumped in his seat and looked utterly lost. Snape sneered in frustration as the large boy sputtered and glanced desperately at Malfoy who was sitting beside him, looking mortified.

"Bulstrode, can you help him?" Snape drawled.

"The deflating draught, sir."

"Correct."

"Finnegan! Name one potion armadillo bile is used in."

Seamus's jaw dropped and floundered. You could see his mind desperately searching for something, _anything_, but he just sat there stunned. Hermione's hand was in the air, of course, but Snape ignored her.

"Pathetic. Close your mouth, Finnegan. Malfoy, answer the question."

"The wit-sharpening potion, sir," Malfoy said with a smug grin on his face.

"Good. Name two other ingredients used in the potion."

Malfoy's brow furrowed for a moment but he seemed to find an answer in his memories. "Ginger root and ground scarab beetles."

"Good. Ten points to Slytherin," Snape said and Malfoy's smirk widened.

"Potter!" Harry sighed internally but held it in and sat up straighter, trying to prepare for what was to come. "Name one use of ashwinder eggs."

Harry's lips parted as he tried to search his memory for _any_ mention of ashwinder eggs from his text book, but honestly couldn't recall. He was about to sigh and admit that he just didn't know when the presence _whispered _to him.

At first he wasn't sure what it was. He felt like he heard words in his head, but they were so quiet and soft that he almost instantly convinced himself he had imagined it. But then he heard it again.

_Eaten whole... cure ague..._

"Um, if they're eaten whole they can cure ague," Harry responded quickly, having already sensed the potion master's impatience.

Snape's brow rose minutely and you could see some surprise grace his features for a moment before it was quickly masked.

"Correct. Name three ingredients in the Befuddlement Draught," Snape said an instant later.

Harry almost scowled. He knew for a fact that the Befuddlement Draught wasn't something they had covered yet that year. He opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn't now yet, and if he had in fact let it come out, it probably would have warranted a detention, but instead the words were cut off by more whispers.

_Sneezewort..._

…_.Scurvy-grass... _

_..lovage..._

The voice sent shivers down his spine and he had to hold back a gasp. He quickly collected himself and resumed eye contact with his professor. "Um, sneezewort, scurvy-grass, and lovage?"

"Are you asking me Potter, or telling me?" Snape drawled sarcastically, but Harry could still see the surprise on the man's face.

"Telling, sir."

Snape eyed him for a long moment before nodding his head. "Correct. What are the effects of eating Alihosty leaves and what is the antidote?"

_Ah! I know that one! er... well, I know half of it. _Harry thought.

"Alihosty leaves cause hysteria when ingested," Harry said but his voice slowed at the end of the sentence since he couldn't quite recall what the antidote for it was. He had read up on Alihosty at the very start of term, and hadn't revisited that chapter of the text book since his mind cleared up.

_Glumbumble... causes melancholy..._

Harry blinked and bit his lip as the voice slithered through his mind again and he had to hold back another shudder. The words were breathy and brief, but it was enough to trigger his memory. He grinned.

"The fluid secreted by the glumbumble is used to make the antidote. It usually causes melancholy, but it counters the hysteria caused by the alihosty when properly brewed."

Snape was looking at him with narrow suspicious eyes now and Harry quickly pulled on a mask of calm innocence.

"Name two potions that jobberknoll parts are used in." Snape said sharply.

Harry was starting to get irritated that he was still being questioned and considered suggesting to his professor that he ought to let the other students take a turn, but he wasn't stupid or suicidal so he didn't.

_Truth serums... Memories..._

The corner of Harry's lips turned up a fraction as the sweet breathy voice spoke in his mind.

"Veritaserum, and several memory potions," Harry answered easily. Veritaserum was _not_ on the forth year curriculum. In fact, it wasn't even mentioned until 7th year. Jobberknoll parts were used in a few simpler, weaker truth serums, one of which they had covered earlier that term. Harry knew the ingredients to Veritaserum because he had specifically looked it up.

Snape's suspicious eyes were boring holes into Harry now and he was sneering in obvious annoyance at the fact that Harry had actually _answered_ the damned questions.

His expression suddenly shifted and he smirked rather evilly. Harry frowned slightly, not liking what was likely to come of that expression.

"What is another name for the 'false pennyroyal' plant, and name one potion it is used in," Snape ordered.

Harry wanted to sneer right back at the man. The 'false pennroyal' plant? What the hell is that?

The presence smirked and Harry felt a grin spread across his lips. He may not have had any idea what it was, but his companion _did_. The whispers came quickly and he repeated the words right back to his teacher.

"Isanthus brachiatus, or fluxweed. It's used in the Polyjuice potion, but it has to be picked when the moon is full," Harry replied easily and grinning rather cockily. He couldn't help it. He was enjoying this far more than he would have expected to.

Snape's eyes flashed with fury for a moment before he squashed the reaction. "Correct," he growled and looked out over the stunned class. "Well, why aren't you taking notes!" he spat angrily and everyone began to quickly scratch away on their parchments.

Harry had to fight to hold back the giggle that tried to bubble up from his chest. It was like his first day of potions class, all over again. Except this time he had the answers.

And Snape was furious.

Harry was stunned he didn't get deducted points for his 'cheek'.

– –

Harry was disappointed that he didn't hear the voice again for the rest of the afternoon. The presence only lingered in his awareness for a few short spans of time during lunch and then later in charms, and it's emotional and imagery commentary had been limited. Harry almost got the impression that it was tired, and he worried about it briefly. Harry was eager to slip into his mindscape that night to check on it so he rushed through his homework and quickly left the common room.

Ron had been looking at him funny every time he ran off to bed early, but he didn't give a damn what Ron thought and ignored it. He raced up the stairs, stowed his bag and supplies in his trunk, quickly disrobed down to his boxers and climbed into bed.

With a flick of his wrist and a hissed _§close§_ the hangings around his bed were drawn closed. He felt the magic curling around him deliciously and he smiled. He was really beginning to adore parselmagic. It was just so _easy_ and it obeyed him without any effort. He also loved the idea that it gave him such an incredible advantage over those around him. With it, he didn't even have to rely on his wand. He still used his wand for normal magic, of course, but thanks to his parselmagic Harry wouldn't be defenseless without it, like every other simpering weakling in the school was, when disarmed.

He lay back in the mountain of pillows, enjoying the luxurious comfort of them, and the fine quality of the comforter and sheets. He couldn't even fathom going back to the stiff mattress, worn sheets, and thin blanket he was left with at the Dursley's when summer would come. He would have to buy himself some decent bedding and find a way to stop the bloody muggles from stealing it from him. He would have to find some time when he could get to Diagon Alley so he could have some of his wizard gold exchanged for pounds. Maybe he could finally buy himself some decent clothing too...

He didn't want to wait till summer for that though. He was growing more and more disgusted by Dudley's castoffs. He'd transfigured a few of his shirts and pants into something presentable, but he needed to buy some clothing. Perhaps he would do that at the next Hogsmeade weekend...

Harry sighed and cleared his mind. He was wasting time.

With practiced ease, he sunk into his mindscape and went directly to the dark spot where his companion resided in his mind.

Harry came up short when he saw the dark spot he spent so much time in. It had changed form again. The large dark amorphous mist was still there – although it was covering more ground – but that had been happening slowly for a while now. The dark tendrils were still shooting out from it in all directions, crawling further and further outwards, and the white nondescript ground plane was tinged gray and speckled lightly. Again, this change had been happening gradually, so it's growth wasn't much of a surprise. What _was_ a surprise was that there appeared to be a _figure_ sitting in the spot where Harry always rested.

The figure wasn't entirely solid, and it was merely a black silhouette, but it was undeniably a figure.

Harry approached slowly. His heart was racing with excitement. He _knew_ that this should seriously concern him. He really did. There truly was a rational voice in the back of his mind _screaming_ that this was bad, but the part of him that was strangely ecstatic was _so much stronger._

Harry came to stand directly before the silhouetted black figure. He was holding his breath in anticipation. He was excited, but he didn't know what to do. The figure's head was ducked, but as Harry came to a stop it raised his head and looked at him. Harry could feel a thrilled sense of eagerness rolling off his companion and he smiled back.

The figure was male, and it was not just a copy of Harry. He could tell that much. His companion was notably taller. Thin and lanky, but with broad shoulders and a powerful stance. The figure was nothing but slightly translucent blackness, but Harry could still tell that he was grinning at him.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out to his companion. His hand came to the figure's shoulder and came against solid mass. Harry's smile spread even wider. Touching the figure sent wonderful tingles through his fingers and hand. His stomach felt like it was full of eager butterflies. He let his whole palm rest upon the figures shoulder and gasped as the figure's opposite hand came up and clasped gently atop Harry's hand.

His stomach did wonderful flip flops and his knees felt weak with the force of the sudden sensation.

He heard an echo of a gasp and looked up to see a faintly surprised expression gracing the dark, translucent features of his companion.

His eyes met the black abyss of his companion. Most of the figure was sort of misty and was lacking solid form, but the irises of his eyes were solid black and shiny. Harry's eyes locked on those black-onyx orbs and he felt as if he could get lost in their depths.

"Beautiful..." Harry breathed out the words, without even meaning to.

The figure smirked, cockily and Harry felt a tinge of embarrassment for a moment before he, himself smiled, and chuckled at his own words.

The figure's free arm rose up slowly. A black shadow trailed the movements, like a time-lapsed echo. Harry watched in wonder as the hand rose up and the knuckles brushed gently over his cheek. He gasped and his head fell back slightly as his eyes closed of their own will.

It was such a surprisingly intimate gesture. It was so small and simple, and yet the feelings it filled him with were so profound. He almost felt like he would cry from the force of it.

He pulled himself back together and opened his eyes once again to find those deep black abysses staring back at him and smiling.

_Harry..._

The whispered echo of a voice vibrated through the vast open space of his mindscape and it sent chills down Harry's very soul. It was such a beautiful voice. He wanted to hear more. He wanted it to be louder, and more clear.

"You spoke to me today," Harry said in a whisper as if he were afraid if he spoke too loudly, it would break some sort of spell.

The figure nodded and smiled. He could feel it's amusement. Harry grinned.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Harry said with a chuckle. "It looked like Snape was about to have a coronary, he was so offended I was able to answer his questions."

Laughter echoed through the space and filled Harry with glee and made him feel lightheaded.

When it calmed down the pair of them stood there, touching each other and looking into each other's eyes. Harry realized he lost track of time at some point and blinked. He ducked his head, feeling slightly embarrassed at how easily he had let himself be mesmerized by those eyes.

"You... you have a form now. How?" he asked, finally.

_...because... you wish it. You... want me. _

_It was your... desire._

_...you power me. Give me strength._

_You share yourself with me. ….allow me access to... you._

_Access to your magic. _

_You have such... wonderful magic, Harry. So beautiful. So powerful..._

_I take just a little bit of it, and it... fuels me... so much. I must adjust... I need time... I will grow... accustomed. You have so much. _

_...so surprising._

Harry blinked in surprise at his companion while the words echoed through the space around him.

"So..." Harry began hesitantly as he thought over the words. "You've tapped into my magic and it's given you the power? That's how you have form now? And why you can talk?"

_Yes..._

_but only because... you wish it. Only because... you allow it._

_The magic is __yours... Harry. I cannot touch it... without you. _

_Without your permission._

Harry nodded his head and looked down, thoughtfully. He hadn't explicitly given permission, since he honestly had no idea any of this was even possible, but he had to admit that he really _had_ wished that his companion was more than an amorphous misty cloud. He had loved having it's tendrils wrapped around him and had wished, on more than one occasion, that they were _arms_ that were wrapped around him.

He had also greatly enjoyed it when his companion had begun to communicate with him, and _had_ wished that he could communicate with more than just ambiguous emotions and images.

Now he could speak to Harry using words.

_He._

Harry had to admit that even before this point, he had thought of his dark companion as male, but he had generally avoided labeling him as such in his thoughts. The time he spent wrapped up in his companion sometimes felt exceedingly... _intimate_, and now that there was no denying the fact that his companion was a man, he was afraid that he might somehow feel awkward.

As if he had read Harry's mind, the figure stepped back, releasing his hand from Harry's, that had remained on his shoulder this entire time, and stretched his arms wide, as if offering himself to Harry.

Harry's breath caught slightly. He felt mildly self-conscious. It was harder to allow himself to do this when there was no denying that it was a person he was with. It wasn't just some portion or representation of himself either. But he had already known that for a long time. He knew that his dark companion wasn't just some other portion of his own psyche. His companion was a foreign presence, inside Harry's mind.

Harry pulled in a deep breath, mustering his courage. He _wanted_ this. He wasn't going to let some stupid, unwarranted embarrassment stop him from doing it. His companion had gained a form _because_ Harry had wanted this so badly.

He stepped forward and slowly wrapped his arms around the figure's waist while it wrapped it's long arms around his shoulder. He held Harry close and their chests pressed together. A startled whimper escaped Harry's lips at the surge of acceptance and need that he felt reverberate through his whole body at the glorious contact.

A long, content moan slipped through his lips and he wrapped his arms around his companions waist, tighter.

He had never hugged someone before. Not really. Hermione had hugged _him, _but Harry had always stiffened up and simply stood there uncomfortably until she let go. He had worried that he would have no idea _how_ to properly hug someone, but now that he was wrapped up in his companions arms, it was as if everything was alright. Everything was just as it should be.

His companion tiled his head down and rested his chin atop Harry's head. His hands began to slowly rub soothingly along Harry's back and Harry felt himself melting into the gentle touches. It felt _so good._ He felt so complete and content. One of his companions hands slid up and made it's way into Harry's messy black hair. His long, slender finger's combed through the disheveled locks and massaged Harry's scalp in calming circles.

Harry almost felt as if he would cry, it felt so amazing. His hands fisted in the transparent misty-black robes that wrapped his companion's silhouetted form, and he buried his face into his companion's shoulder, pulling in a deep breath.

He was surprised to find that he could _smell_ the other man. He wondered about that. Considering that everything he was experiencing was all just in his mind, it was a little odd that his external senses registered anything here. But he could _feel_ and _hear_ his companion, so he supposed it made sense that he could _smell_ him too.

The two stood there amongst the black mist that filled the dark spot in the back of Harry's mind, holding each other in quiet contentment for a very long time. The longer they embraced, the further and further the black mist began to spread, and the more mottled and gray the ground became. Eventually, Harry slipped into unconsciousness with a content smile gracing his features.

– –


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKRowling.

First Beta pass by Clemex

– –

_He leaned back in the plush velvet armchair and sighed with heavy frustration. He fingered the book that lay rested in his lap. His tiny, bony hands were dwarfed by the ancient tome, but this wasn't because the book was especially large – rather, he was frustratingly small._

_The homunculus he had crafted for himself had taken the greater part of the last year and a half to complete, and even then, it's completion wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't acquired Wormtail's services. A fact which he was loath to admit._

_He was finally in a physical form that was not constantly on the brink of dissolving or dying, and he had access to his own magic once again – although it was unstable, and use of it exhausted him quickly. _

_He __**hated**__ existing like this. It was a tease. Granted, it was better than that half-life he had existed in before this – but he was __**so close**__, and yet so far away from being returned to a fully functional body and finally being able to focus back on his tasks. Being in this form gave him a taste of what it was like to finally have a body back, but the body itself was so pathetic and weak, it only served to frustrate and anger him. _

_He needed the boy's blood to properly complete the ritual he had designed. He couldn't afford to allow that ridiculous protection of his to continue, and only the use of the boy's blood would do that. He had to admit that he did not fully understand the nature of the protection gifted to the boy by his mother. That ignorance frustrated and angered him greatly. _

_He feared that it's existence, and the mystery behind it, were in some way linked to that damned prophecy. He needed to rid himself of that threat so that he could resume his work! It was too important for him to be vanquished by some ignorant child, who was only acting blindly on the orders of that frustratingly mad old man! _

_But waiting for the right opportunity to act was maddening._

_And to compound things, he was bored. Horribly, terribly bored. _

_He looked back down at the book in his lap and sighed. He had read it decades ago. Rereading it now was only mildly interesting. He wanted to send Wormtail to fetch some more books, but he couldn't risk his servant being seen by the public. It was already risky enough when he sent him into the nearby muggle village to fetch supplies and things. He would have to wait until Barty was able to return to him again._

_Ah, Barty... unrelenting loyalty. The man worshiped him, unquestioningly. He had been so fortunate to discover his servant was still alive and well... or as well as one can be after several years in Azkaban and then many more years under the imperius, locked away in his father's home. Despite Barty's mildly questionable sanity, he knew he could rely on Barty's loyalty._

_Wormtail, in contrast, stayed entirely out of his own cowardice. The man was terrified of his own shadow. It was pathetic. He wished he could call a more competent servant to his side, but he could not risk it. Not yet. He was still too weak, and his servants were all too power-hungry and ignorant of the bigger picture. If they sensed his weakness they could easily try to take advantage of it, and he would be in no position to stop them. And then he would have to start this entire frustrating process over again like he had after the Brat had destroyed Quirrell._

_Stupid, pathetic Quirrell. But he had still made a better servant that Wormtail. He sneered the name with utter disgust in his mind. It was such a sad, pathetic state of affairs that he had been reduced to relying on such a loathsome little rat. Disgusting._

_Soon... soon he would be returned to his full glory. He would gather his old followers and retain new blood. He needed to restore power to the dark and dismantle the mountain of damage that the fool, Dumbledore had caused in his blind lunacy. _

_He could only hope he was not too late. His work was imperative, had he felt the crush of time working against him. He had to complete his tasks and set things back into balance, or they would all be doomed, light and dark together. How Dumbledore could willingly ignore the signs of his own idiotic destruction was beyond him. The man was a fool. His ideals would damn them all._

_And he would not go down with the muggles. No. He would fight to return magic to it's rightful place, even if he had to claw his way there, tooth and nail. It was his sworn duty, and he would neglect that duty no longer._

_He just needed time... But time was working against him. It had been working against him for so, damn, long._

_He sighed in frustration again, wishing he could find a way to speed things up. He dug deep inside himself to touch upon the darkest of his magics. The magic that was his, and his alone. The magics that he was gifted by Magic herself as a part of his task._

_This magic had never left him, but without corporeal form, there was little he could do with it. At least it had provided him with the strength to pull his homunculus together. _

_He pulled the magic out and swirled it around himself, relishing in the knowledge that he could still do this, at least. And he would only grow in strength as time passed._

_Ah... there it was again. Time. Always time. Everything took time, and yet he had so little patience left._

_He pulled out another surge of the magic and chuckled lightly at the rush it filled him with. This was power. Power that only he could properly wield. _

_Lovely delicious power. And he would use it to restore the world to the way it was meant to be. He just needed time._

– –

Harry woke with a gasp that instantly shifted into a moan as his back arched off the bed. Magic rushed through him in his startled state and it danced along his skin like little sparks of lightening.

As he regained his focus the surge dissipated like a pleasant breeze and he let out a breathy sigh. He blinked through heavy lids and furrowed his brow as he tried to sift through his memories to make sense of what had just happened.

He was being held by his _companion_. They had stood there together for... for ages. And it had been wonderful...

And then... and then, he was sitting in that study again. The chair was nice. The fabric had been elegant and soft and there was a fire in the fireplace to the left. He was reading a book.

What a brilliant book... fascinating things... _tempting_ things...

_I wonder if there's a place in school where I could try out a few of those spells..._

But he had felt bored with it. He had read it before... long ago... and his sense of impatience with having to wait had been too frustrating to allow him to focus on the blasted book. He needed...

Harry sat up.

_Bloody hell!_

It had felt so real. He remembered it as if it had been he, himself, there. Hell, he had sat here for nearly three solid minutes going over the memories before he even realized he was Voldemort!

Harry shook his head. _No!_ No, he wasn't Voldemort. He had simply been seeing through Voldemort's eyes.

_And hearing his thoughts. __**Thinking**__his thoughts. As if they were my own. Thoughts and feelings that had felt entirely my own. And the __**magic!**__ It was... it was incredible!_

Harry felt shaken and took in a deep breath. He wished his companion was there. He didn't like the way he felt just then. He wrapped his arms around himself, missing the warmth of being in his companion's embrace.

He wanted that warmth back. He _needed it._ Needed it so he didn't feel alone. He didn't want to feel alone anymore. Never alone. Never again.

Just as his body was beginning to shake and shiver with his irrational wave of loneliness, the presence appeared in his mind and he sighed in relief.

_Harry...?_

"You're here," Harry breathed in a whisper as he smiled and let himself fall back against his pillows.

_What... happened? _

Harry shook his head and laughed weakly at the ridiculousness of his almost-panic attack.

"_I'm okay,"_ Harry thought in his mind.

_What happened?_ His companion repeated, his silken voice more steady now.

"_I... I had a vision."_

_You saw... through his eyes...?_

Harry nodded his head, even though he was laying in his bed all alone and conversing with a person inside his mind. _"Yes."_

_This... upset you? Did you see something... you didn't like?_

Harry shook his head and sighed. _"No, nothing like that. He was just sitting in the lounge reading. I think what really upset me was that I didn't even realize it was him and not me. I should be able to tell the difference between his mind and mine... you know?"_

_Do not dwell on it. Harry. _

_It is over... _

_...I am here._

Harry smiled as he felt the warmth of his companion embrace his mind, and a glorious shudder danced through his belly at the silken breathy words.

Finally Harry pushed himself out of bed and pulled back the hangings on his bed. His dorm mates were all still asleep. It was early, but a quickly cast tempus told him that breakfast would be served in an hour. He could take a nice long shower and soak up the hot water without having to share the bathroom with his dorm mates – all of whom tended to sleep till the last possible minute.

Harry collected his toiletries, pulled on a loose robe over his boxers and made his way into the bathroom.

He set his things aside and stripped down. He turned and his eye caught the mirror to the side and for some reason... he stopped. He stood there and looked at himself. He rarely did this. He didn't like looking at himself. Harry had never had a very positive self-image. A decade of malnourishment and neglect had left him scrawny and boney. He was short for his age too, and he knew it was entirely the result of being denied proper food for so long.

He had decent enough muscle tone. Years of manual labor around the Dursley's house and yard, compounded with three years of Quidditch had at least given him that. But he was still disgustingly thin. He could easily see his ribs and his collarbones were too obvious.

He wondered suddenly if there was something he could do about it with magic. He _was_ a wizard, after all!

But a glamor wouldn't be sufficient. He didn't want to hide, or disguise his appearance. He wanted to actually fix it. Correct the damage done by those disgusting muggle pigs.

_Potions..._

The voice whispered and he blinked in surprise and then blushed lightly. He had forgotten that he wasn't really 'alone' in the bathroom. Here he was, standing totally starkers in front of a mirror...

The presence chuckled at his sudden wave of bashfulness, and Harry managed to recover and quickly turned away from the mirror. He walked over to the shower, started the water and ducked under the spray. It was the perfect temperature. It was always the perfect temperature.

_I love magic..._

Harry began to lather shampoo into his hair and refocused on what his companion had said.

"_So a potion, huh?" _He mentally asked.

_There are... several. Must be taken... schedule. Over time._

Harry nodded his head. That made sense. If it was going to be a real physical change, it probably wouldn't be instantaneous. It was probably better if it was a gradual change, anyway. If he suddenly changed overnight, people would notice.

_I will guide you... to the books. Go to the... library... later._

Harry grinned.

He was looking forward to this. The prospect of being able to fix at least something that the damned _muggles_ had done to him left him with an eager skip to his step. He quickly finished with the bathroom and returned to his dorm. He dressed in his robes and slipped out and headed for breakfast. There were still several hours before Transfiguration. If he ate quickly enough, he could probably do some quick book searching before he had to be to class.

– –

His visit to the library had been partially successful. He had left with two different books on potions but the one that would be the most useful was apparently in the restricted section. He planned to come back that night with his invisibility cloak. He probably could have gotten permission from one of his teachers to search the restricted section for something to aid him prepare for the next task, but he still had absolutely no idea what the next task was, since he still couldn't figure out what to do with the blasted egg.

He needed to figure that out soon too...

Harry rushed through the halls, half-sprinting, towards the Transfiguration classroom. He had lost track of time and class would be starting soon. He bolted in through the door just as the chime rang and he quickly slipped into a seat in the back row, heaving a sigh of relief.

Hermione was turned around in her seat, looking at him with concern and a bit of obvious disapproval at arriving so late. Her glare was broken when McGonagall cleared her throat and called the class to attention.

Instead of heading straight into lecture mode, however, McGonagall announced that the sign-up sheet for those staying in the school over the holidays had just been posted in the common room.

"Now before you all make your decision, I should let you all know of one very important development for this year's holiday festivities. This year, Hogwarts will be playing host to a Yule Ball," McGonagall paused and looked around the room of Gryffindors. The girls' eyes all lit up with excitement, while the boys' faces filled almost instantly with dread.

"The Yule Ball, as the name denotes, is first and foremost, _a dance._ It will be held on Christmas Eve, and anyone in fourth year and above is welcome to attend. Third years can attend if they have a date from forth or above."

At this point, eager whispering and tittering had filled the room, but a sharp glare from McGonagall brought silence to the room.

A few minutes more passe and McGonagall had concluded her announcements and started the actual transfiguration lesson. Harry wasn't sure exactly what to think of the Yule Ball. He had absolutely no desire to deal with some damned dance and wondered if he could get away with just skipping the thing, even though he would be staying for the holidays. He quickly refocused on the actual classwork, and had almost completely forgotten about the Yule Ball when class drew to a close.

"Mr. Potter, please stay behind," McGonagall said, as Harry began to pack up his book, parchment and quill. Harry frowned but nodded and finished collecting his things and went over to stand by her desk.

"You wanted something, Professor?" Harry asked as soon as the last student had left the room.

"Yes. I wanted to inform you that, as one of the Tri-Wizard champions, you and your date will be expected to partake in the traditional waltz at the start of the ball. Are you going to be in need of assistance preparing for this? I will be holding dancing lessons this weekend for those students who need them."

Harry blinked.

"Wait... do I _have_ to go to the ball?" Harry asked quickly.

McGonagall pursed her lips and frowned. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Of course. You are one of the champions. Your attendance is mandatory."

Harry groaned, and internally grumbled.

_Great... just great._

"Oh... alright," he mumbled, trying to push aside some of his bitter irritation. He sighed heavily and looked back up at his professor. "Um... yeah, I guess I'll probably need those... lessons," he said in a flat, grumble.

"Alright, Mr. Potter. The dancing lesson will be held Saturday at 3pm."

Harry gave her a rather fake smile and his thanks and bid her farewell before racing from the room and making his way to Defense.

– – –

"Blimey, mate! Can you believe it? A dance! Ugh!" Ron said as he sat down heavily on the bench beside him that evening at dinner.

Harry looked over at Ron with a raised eyebrow but didn't immediately respond. Ron had tried this tactic several times already; talking to Harry as if nothing had ever happened between them, in hopes that Harry would act the same as before and they could go back to the way things used to be.

Harry sighed heavily, resigning himself to the tedium of a conversation with his ginger dorm mate. He wasn't going to take the boy back as a friend, but even Harry realized that he had been terribly anti-social lately. He barely spoke to _anyone_ outside of mandatory class interactions. Burning every bridge he had was not a wise tactic. He didn't personally care what people thought of him, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that social standing and public opinion didn't matter.

"Yeah... a dance," Harry said unenthusiastically as he stabbed his fork through a pork sausage.

Ron's face lit up slightly with hope at finally having gotten some sort or response out of Harry and he pressed on. "So I guess this means we have to get dates, then."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Dates," he grumbled and frowned. He really didn't like that idea at all. He wasn't even vaguely interested in anyone in the school. Forcing himself to ask some random girl, he didn't even give a damn about, on a date was just annoying.

"Any idea who you want to ask?" Ron asked, desperately trying to prod the conversation forward.

Harry sighed and leaned away from the table slightly. He looked around the great hall, hoping that his eyes would just fall upon a good candidate right then and there and save him the hassle of having to actually _think_ about it.

His brief search wasn't coming up with anything and he sighed, resigned to having to actually put some thought behind this choice when he caught sight of a gaggle of blue robes, lead at the head by Fleur Delacour.

Harry grinned. "Maybe I'll ask Fleur," he snickered before looking back down at his plate and doing another violent thrust of his fork into the poor defenseless sausage.

Ron hiccoughed in shock, choking slightly on his pumpkin juice, and looked at Harry as if he were mad. "You're joking, right?" His voice cracked.

Harry looked up at Ron with a perfectly straight poker-face for almost a whole minute before it broke into a wide grin and he laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, Ron. Probably," he said with a smirk.

_Although_, he added, mentally to himself, _it would be rather humorous if the one guy in the entire school who honestly didn't give a damn about the half-veela was the one who got to go to the ruddy dance with her._

Maybe he _would_ ask. Just to see what she'd say. If she turned him down – which she probably would... he _was_ only fourteen, after all – then no big deal. It certainly wouldn't break his heart, and then he could just ask some other chit.

But if she actually said yes, maybe during the damned dance he could find out if she had figured out her egg yet. People make eye contact when dancing. It'd be a simple matter to slip into her mind and find any information on the next task.

A wry grin spread across his lips. It wasn't a bad plan.

His companion's presence grew in his mind, and Harry felt his agreement and heard a quiet, chuckle.

Definitely a good plan.

– –

The next day Harry waited at the entrance to the great hall, leaning against the wall with the potions book he had stolen from the restricted section the night before. He was reading it while also keeping an eye out for the gaggle of French girls. They usually arrived pretty early so as to avoid the crowds of drooling, hormone-driven boys who tended to stalk them on a regular basis.

Seeing as how this was the day after the ball was announced, it seemed pretty likely that they would be assaulted.

Hell, _Harry_ was planning the very same damned thing. He just hoped to do it without looking like a total arse.

He had read all the way through the instructions on the first potion he was hoping to brew to start correcting his pathetically undersized body, and was about to start re-reading the steps again just to make sure he caught all the little details he would need to make sure were just right before hand, when he caught the sight of pale-blue out of the corner of his eye.

He pushed off the wall, closed the book and slid it into his bag. He assumed a confident stance and a calm, but self assured grin.

Confidence was key. But not arrogance. It was an exact balance, and he would have to pull it off just right or else he would be just another 'stupid little boy' vying for the veela's attention.

As the girls drew closer several of them eyed him warily, a few of them even looked at him rather angrily. Fleur's face remained mostly passive, with a tinge of curiosity.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Delacour," Harry said with a slightly cocky grin and a small bow, "I was wondering if I could possibly ask for a moment of your time?" he asked as he stood straight again and grinned rather cheekily.

Fleur's eyebrow rose the smallest fraction, but so did the corner of her lips. She seemed to consider him for a moment before she nodded and sent a quick look to the girls around her that silently told them to wait for her.

Harry waved his hand to the side the two stepped away from the group to a marginally more private spot, about ten feet away.

"You wanted som'sing, Monsieur Potter?" she asked a moment later.

"Yes, I was wondering if you might consider attending the Yule Ball with me," Harry said with easy confidence and a simple, but honest-looking smile. There wasn't the slightest hint of fear or uncertainty in any of his words or actions. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she found this rather surprising. That or she was just stunned that a stupid little 14-year old would have the balls to ask her at all.

"You want me to go to zee ball wis _you?_" she asked with a mixture of shock, and amused curiosity in her eyes.

"That is the general idea, yes," Harry said with a quick nod and a grin. "Are you interested?"

She eyed him for a long minute, and Harry realized that she was honestly considering it.

"I will take your proposition under consideration," she said finally. "I _do_ have other interested suitors, as I'm sure you are aware."

Harry smiled and chuckled quietly. "Oh, I'm sure there are _plenty_ of others dying to ask you. Older boys. Perhaps even better looking guys, although I find that one hard to imagine," he said airily with his nose slightly in the air, before smiling widely and snickering. "Although I guarantee that none of them will be nearly as entertaining company. Still, I understand completely," Harry said giving her another little bow of his head. She actually laughed lightly and Harry's smirk only grew in response. "Do try not to keep me hanging for too long though."

"Of course. Zhat would be rude. I will let you know as soon as I have made my choice."

Harry grinned again and nodded his head. "Thank you."

She smiled back at him, an amusement twinkling in her eyes. "You seem greatly changed zince zee start of term, Monsieur Potter."

Harry playfully rolled his eyes. "Well, being forced into a deadly tournament does wonders to motivate a person to grow up a bit. I've had some pretty powerful changes in my life over the past two months," he ended with an easy dismissive shrug.

"Your performance wis zee dragons was quite surprising. I was unaware zat you were a parseltongue. Quite a rare talent, zat is."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Harry said with another dismissive gesture before he leaned in a spoke in a mock conspiratorial whisper, "I used to try and keep it real quiet because all those whispers about me being a dark wizard used to make me idiotically self-conscious, but I've sort of gotten over that," he finished with a chuckle.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Let them believe what they want. It's a talent I possess and I'm not going to shun a perfectly legitimate skill just because _some people_ are a little creeped out by it."

"Hm," she made a small approving noise and grinned at him. He grinned back, a little wider.

She rolled her eyes at him, but her smile only grew.

"I must be going. My friends are waiting and we have breakfast to attend to."

"Of course," Harry bowed and waved his hand out, motioning her back towards the entrance where her friends still stood, whispering furiously. Quite a crowd of other students seemed to have collected there as well.

She laughed at him and shook her head. "You are very amusing, Monsieur Potter."

"Please, call me Harry," he said as he began to walk beside her, back towards her friends.

"Alright, '_arry,_" she said. "I will let you know when I make my decision.

"Thank you."

The entered the great hall and parted ways – Fleur and the other Beauxbatons girls heading towards the table specially setup for them, and Harry, confidently striding towards the Gryffindor table. Dean was the only one from his year already there, and he was gaping at Harry with his jaw so far open, it was practically resting on the table.

Harry sat down and quickly began loading up his plate, as he pretended to be oblivious of all the jealous pairs of eyes, currently trained on him. The smirk wouldn't leave his lips though.

His encounter with the French girl had been amazingly easy. Harry chuckled as he thought of how utterly impossible that would have been a mere two months prior.

_Merlin_, he was glad he wasn't that stupid, weak little idiot anymore.

– – –

Each day that passed, his companion was able to stay with him for longer and longer periods of time during the days, and the smoother and easier his words came. By the end of the week, they were almost able to hold a fluid conversation for nearly half an hour before his companion grew tired and had to retreat back into Harry's mind.

Harry asked his companion why he would grow tired so easily after speaking to Harry when he was awake, and he responded by saying that in order to stay in Harry's outer awareness he had to draw from Harry's magic. He explained, in his broken whispery way, that Harry's magic, and his magic were not entirely compatible, and it took a lot of strength for the him to use that energy. But that relaying actual words, instead of emotions, took more strength than he possessed on his own.

However, he told Harry that as each day passed, the two magical sources grew more and more alike, and the easier it became for him to tap into Harry's power core, which was why he was slowing able to stay longer and say more.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that revelation, and wondered if he should be concerned that his magic _type_ was becoming more like that of his companions... and what the bloody hell that even meant.

He suspected that it was related to how his once-white mindscape was slowly turning gray. But he couldn't quite bring himself to think it was a bad thing. The further the mottled gray area spread, the more comfortable he felt there.

For a while now he had been feeling that the white had been _too bright_. Whenever he entered his mindscape, he hurriedly retreated to the dark corner and buried his face in his companion's embrace. He hated looking out into the white expanse. It was blinding, and annoying. It had started irritating him with it's brightness, and as more and more of it was shifted to gray, he felt more and more content and comfortable.

He wanted it to change faster. He was sick of the whiteness.

–

Harry owl-ordered the apothecary in Hogsmeade with a list of ingredients that he would need for the three different potions he planned to make. They replied telling him that they could provide all that he needed, except for the Re'em blood, which they didn't carry. They recommended an apothecary in Knockturn Alley called Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary that specialized in exotic magical animal parts, which Harry was grateful for.

Harry was also in need of some Runespore eggs for the potion he got out of the restricted section book, but he had known better than to ask the Hogsmeade apothecary for that.

Runespores were protected, so it was actually illegal to sell their eggs. They were still traded on the black market, of course, but Harry didn't exactly have any idea how to _contact_ someone like that.

Perhaps this Mr. Mulpepper from Knockturn Alley would be of some help.

Harry penned a response to the Hogsmeade Apothecary confirming the order, and then another one to Gringotts, asking them to transfer the needed funds directly to the proprietor. Once the apothecary had their money, they would send Harry a parcel with the specified ingredients and he could begin his brewing on two of the three potions.

He was thankful that none of the potions he needed to make were as annoying to make as Polyjuice potion had been. No ingredients that had to be picked at the full moon, or had to go through a month long simmering time.

No. All three potions he planned to make could be brewed in a matter of hours, and ready to begin a consumption schedule immediately after.

He couldn't wait.

But of course, he _had to_ wait, since he was still missing two key ingredients to the most important potion of the batch.

He quickly penned a letter to the shop in Knockturn Alley under the alias, Notechus Noir. He went with Noir with regards to his godfather Sirius, since noir meant 'black' in French. His companion suggested Notechus. It was the Latin name for the tiger snake, and his companion said it suited him – although how, Harry really couldn't fathom. His companion also made helpful suggestions on what exactly to say, and how to say it to get what he wanted without garnering excess suspicion. Hopefully it would work, and he would be able to get his Runespore eggs without considerable hassle.

– –

That Saturday brought the dancing lessons, and a surprisingly large number of Gryffindors had shown up for them. Apparently their head of house had been rather insistent. She didn't want her lions all looking like a bunch of uncoordinated buffoons at the ball.

The girls were all eager and giggly, while the boys were awkward and embarrassed. Harry had to fight to hold in his laughter at how idiotic his fellow boys were acting. They were practically oozing terror, and when instructed to place their hand on their partner's waist, most of them looked as if they had just been told to stick their hand in a vat of boiling acid.

Harry had actually been the first guinea pig since, when McGonagall had asked for a volunteer to dance _with her_ to demonstrate to the rest of the class, he had been the only one willing to do it.

The twins whistled and shouted catcalls to him, and he winked at them, and gave his head of house a low bow before taking her hand and placing his hand upon her waist without the slightest hesitation.

Inside he was laughing wildly at the stunned looks of his fellow classmates.

It was just their bleedin' professor! Sure, the woman was old enough to be his grandmother, but it wasn't like she was going to bite.

Harry's movements were rather jerky at first as he tried to remember the steps, and keep in time with the music at the same time, but he caught on quickly enough and McGonagall gave him a small approving smile.

It was shortly after that, that she had forced the rest of the gathered students to partner up and began spouting off instructions to each of them. Harry waited to the side while she walked around the group, giving specific advice to those struggling the most... which was most of them, honestly. Harry observed and made mental notes of what to try and what to specifically avoid, as well as _who_ to avoid on the dance floor, so as not to get knocked down.

Finally McGonagall made her way back over to him and he led her back onto the dance floor with a mild chuckle.

He easily re-found his groove and slipped into a comfortable rhythm.

"I must say, Mr. Potter; I'm quite impressed. You've caught on quickly."

Harry smirked. "Thank you professor. _I do try._"

She raised an eyebrow, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitching against the urge to smile. "Yes, apparently so," she replied dryly, only making Harry smile wider. "I actually wanted to commend you. Your class performance this last month or so has seen a great improvement. Your written work has taken a dramatic turn for the better as well."

"Yes, well, having to go up against people three years older than me in a tournament practically designed to kill me is great motivation to study harder," Harry said with a mild air of sarcasm.

"I imagine it would be. I'm proud of how you seem to be handling the pressure, although I have also noticed that you don't seem to be on speaking terms with many of your classmates."

"I would say that _they_ are not on speaking terms with _me._"

"Not even Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger? The three of you always seemed so close, but I never see you with them anymore. I never see you with _anyone_ these days, Mr. Potter. I must admit I'm a bit worried about you."

Harry felt himself tense up and had to fight to keep a scowl from spreading across his face. He wanted to know what she was thinking and realized this was a great opportunity to see if he could pull off the mental scan while dancing. He didn't have his wand in his hand, and wouldn't have it at the ball either. His companion had told him he could do it if he focused enough. He decided to try it.

He tilted his head up and made eye contact. He called his magic to him and slipped into her mind with surprising ease. He only barely brushed the surface of her thoughts. Krum had been able to tell that he was in the Bulgarian's mind, and Harry didn't doubt that a professor as old and experienced as McGonagall might have some more definite sense of a magical invasion into her mind than the students he had tried this on so far had. So he wasn't willing to risk exposure by delving too deep. Just the same, he wanted to know what the professor thought about his recent social behavior so he lingered, picking out bits and pieces as she thought them.

_Withdrawn. Anti-social. Brooding. Easily angered._ She'd seen him snap at several people over the last week. She had also seen him bite back with some rather nasty retorts when a couple Slytherins tried taunting him about the latest Skeeter article. She was also concerned about his behavior towards some of the Hufflepuffs. Part of her thought that maybe he was depressed, however there was another little voice that thought his 'symptoms' were also reminiscent of other, _darker_, problems. The phrase _dark magic_ kept flitting through her mind, surrounded by concern. He pulled out and scowled.

"They've been giving you a hard time, haven't they?" she asked in a softer, quieter tone that surprised him a bit with how much it sounded like she _actually cared_. He blinked at her, not entirely sure how she expected him to respond to that.

"Yeah, well the whole accusation that I cheated to get my name into the cup was pretty bad on it's own – and of course no one believed me when I said I _didn't do it_. Then there was that ridiculous article from Skeeter that came out, only making things that much worse. And even after I scored the highest in the first task, the fact that I used parseltongue to do it only bred paranoia and a new wave of rumors about me _going dark,"_ Harry said with a dramatic roll of his eyes and a chuckle, hoping his blasé approach to the subject would assuage some of her paranoia.

Professor McGonagall gave him a hard look. "Yes... about that..."

"Oh not you too," Harry groaned and stopped waltzing, so he could look at her better. "Do _you_ believe that parseltongue is dark?" he asked, flat out. Several people around them heard and quite a few eyes landed on them.

McGonagall's eyes darted around and she frowned at several people, giving them a look that said '_keep dancing!_' and they all instantly dispersed. Of course they still stayed within earshot, and continued to shoot the two of them furtive glances.

"I suppose not, Mr. Potter, although very little is actually known about parseltongue. Those who possessed the skill did not often share information on it," she said finally as she refocused on him. "Still, I don't think that you should be exerting your efforts towards pursuing that branch of magic."

"Why not?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and giving her a fairly indignant glare. He wasn't going to let her get away without giving him an honest answer.

"While it is true that parseltongue might not actually a dark talent, most wizards who possessed the skill _were dark wizards."_

"So being able to speak and understand parseltongue, instantly makes me dark?" Harry responded, indignantly.

"No, of course not. I simply mean that the spells that were created, specifically with parseltongue in mind, were created by dark wizards, and as such, are _dark spells._"

"Well I didn't even _use_ any spells in the first task," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

She blinked at him, apparently surprised and confused by this statement. "You didn't?"

"No! Well, I did cast those fireproofing spells on my clothing, and the fire shield that I kept on my forearm before hand, but those were just _normal spells._ The parseltongue stuff was simply me _telling the dragon_ that the gold egg in it's nest was an imposter's egg and that if it hatched it would eat all of her eggs. I told her I was going to take it away and promised not to harm any of her eggs while I collected it. Dragons are related close enough to serpents that they still speak and understand a variant of parseltongue. I had the added benefit of having gotten the Chinese Fireball. Asian dragons are the closest of the dragon races to serpents and understand parseltongue almost perfectly. All I did was _talk to it._"

"That's it?" McGonagall responded, surprised.

"Yes. That was it," Harry said in a tone that booked no question of his honesty. Of course he was lying through his teeth. He had used quite a lot of persuasive and confunding magic while sending out those parseltongue commands. But McGonagall didn't need to know that, and neither did the group of people who were currently standing around them eavesdropping.

"Hmf," McGonagall made a small, surprised noise in her throat but then nodded her head. "Very well then. Still, I wouldn't recommend any extensive pursuit in the field of parselmagic."

"How could I? It's not like there are any books on the subject in the library," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he stepped forward and resumed his earlier position and they began to dance again.

She continued to make minor corrections to his form, and timing, but quickly told him he had a very solid foundation and left him so she could make another pass around the room to help the others.

Harry stood off to the side and relaxed against the wall. His companion joined him in his mind and the pair of them had a silent running commentary on how idiotic most of his classmates looked as they bumbled their way around the large dance floor.

Surprisingly enough, _Neville_ was doing the best out of the forth year boys. The twins and Lee Jordan were having a pretty easy time of it too, but they were all confident enough that even when they messed up, they were able laugh it off, recover, and cover it up quickly.

Most of the girls looked frustrated and annoyed with whatever boy they had gotten stuck with as a dance partner, although plenty of them still looked nervous and unsure enough to make plenty of the mistakes themselves.

"What are you doing over here all on your own?" Hermione's voice broke through his internal snickering and he turned his head to see her walking up and lean against the wall beside him.

"McGonagall said I had a good handle on things and she needed to start making rounds to help the others. What about you?"

"Ron got embarrassed and is currently sulking against the wall over that way somewhere," Hermione said, nodding her head towards the opposite side of the room.

Harry snickered. "Yeah, well he looked like he was doing a pretty pathetic job of it. I'm amazed he even showed up to this thing." Harry chuckled and then looked back over at Hermione. She was looking wistfully at the couples still dancing.

"Want to have another go at it?" he asked, motioning towards the dance floor with his hand.

She looked stunned by the offer for a moment before smiling shyly and nodding her head.

He chuckled and shook his head as he pushed off the wall and lead her onto the dance floor.

It was odd dancing with Hermione, but not really as odd as it had been to dance with his head of house, so Harry quickly got over any weirdness he felt in the situation.

Their movements were a bit awkward at first, but Harry quickly found his comfort zone and Hermione caught on quickly enough thanks to his surprisingly impressive skill at leading. Once they had gotten into a comfortable rhythm, Harry figured he'd make some small talk. That was part of the deal, and he needed to be able to dance and talk at the same time if he was going to be Fleur. She would expect it..

"So... you excited for this whole dance thing?" he asked, not really caring about the answer.

She smiled shyly and nodded her head. "Yes, I think I am, actually."

"Anyone asked you yet?" he asked, mildly more curious now. He wondered if Ron might have done it... but instantly dismissed the thought. Ron was far to thick to realize that Hermione was actually a _girl._

Hermione blushed slightly and her smile widened a bit. Harry smirked. "Ah, someone has then, huh? Anyone I know?"

She pulled her lip in between her teeth, as if she were seriously debating whether or not to tell him. He couldn't quite imagine why she might be hesitant to tell him and wondered if she was embarrassed about it. He dug into himself and pulled out another hefty collection of his magic, preparing for another wandless attempt at mind-reading. The magic made his stomach do flipflops and he felt a little giddy at the rush. He almost stumbled a bit at the exquisite surge of power, but managed to recover and resume dancing without interrupting the flow too badly.

She looked up with a curious frown, clearly confused by his sudden stumble, and the odd shudder to his breath. As their eyes made contact he slipped into her mind and began to dig through her memories. This was a much deeper intrusion than he had been willing to risk with his head of house, but he was confident that Hermione wouldn't notice a thing. Finally he came across a mental image of Viktor Krum, standing over her, surrounded by the library stacks. He was stumbling over his English a bit, and actually managed to look awkward and nervous – something Harry found rather surprising for the always overbearingly confident Bulgarian. Harry picked out the words _Yule Ball_ in the jumbled memory, and saw Hermione blushing, ducking her head and nodding as a large smile spread across her lips.

He pulled out of her mind and blinked in surprise.

_Surely not...? Krum? Really! _He almost laughed.

"I think I'm going to keep it a secret, if you don't mind," Hermione was saying as a small, secret, smile spread across her face.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Fine with me. Keep your secrets," he said in a joking tone as he continued to recover from his shocking discovery.

_Viktor Krum! With Hermione! Hah!_

Harry could feel his companion chortling in the back of his mind too.

"What about you? Do you have anyone in mind to ask?" Hermione said, squaring her shoulders and taking on a more confident posture.

"Already asked someone, actually. She's got a lot of potential suitors lined up though, so she said she'd let me know when she picks someone," he ended with a chuckle.

"Oh? Who?"

"Fleur," Harry said with a wide, amused grin. Hermione looked stunned.

"You asked Fleur!" she apparently found this even more shocking than he had found the whole Krum thing.

He nodded his head and laughed lightly. "Yup. Did it the morning after McGonagall told us all about the ball."

Hermione's face instantly shifted to concern. "You didn't make a fool of yourself, did you?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Harry snorted. "Hardly. Honestly that whole _veela-thing_ doesn't really effect me any. It's kind of funny to watch the other blokes falling down over themselves like blathering idiots though."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. "If the 'veela-thing' doesn't effect you, why did you ask her?"

"Thought it'd be funny, honestly. I mean, the whole male population of the school is infatuated with her. I thought it'd be humorous if the one guy here who _isn't _obsessed with her was the one who got to go with her to the dance. Plus, I imagine she would probably enjoy going to the event with someone who could still manage to talk, instead of just drooling over her the whole time."

Hermione looked at him with a rather disbelieving look. "So your _not_ infatuated with her?" she repeated, skeptically.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Not even the slightest."

"But... well, why not? I mean, _I_ don't understand the draw behind it, of course, but I'm a _girl. _I understand that it's a very powerful sort of magic and very few can fight it very well. A veela's aura supposedly calls to men like a moth to flame. It's why all the boys get so _dumb_ around her. Why wouldn't _you_ get all dumb around her too?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but stopped for some reason. He paused and for the first time since Hermione and Ron had ditched him after Halloween, he considered confiding in her.

As the words flitted through his mind, he suddenly knew they were true and he almost laughed as he was struck with the powerful realization. He didn't though. Instead he met Hermione's eyes and smiled softly.

"Honestly, Hermione?"

She nodded her head, prodding him to continue.

He sighed but his lips were still graced with a soft, resigned smile. "Honestly... I don't think I fancy girls."

Hermione blinked at him with obvious confusion on her face. "You don't –" she began to say when her lips parted suddenly in surprise and realization dawned in her eyes. "You... you mean you fancy –"

"Blokes? Yeah... yeah, I think so," Harry said with a shrug and an unusual accepting honesty in his eyes.

"Oh... oh, Harry," Hermione said, coming to a stop and looking up into his green eyes. "How long have you known?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He shrugged and ducked his head a bit. "I don't know... not too long really. I think it's only just really starting to hit home. But I think a part of me has known it for more than a month now."

"So recently?" she said, apparently surprised by this.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, well, I hadn't really let myself think too much on relationships before this. I've always been a bit busy trying not to get killed by something or other, or spending my summers with the _muggles, _locked in my room. Not a lot of opportunities for making profound self realizations when you spend every waking moment performing exhausting manual labor."

Hermione looked as if she were about to keep talking but came up short and made a face at what he had just said. Her mind seemed to be trying to work something out, but she shook her head, as if pushing past it and getting back on topic.

"So... so you figured this out while Ron and I –"

"While the two of you had ditched me? Yeah. When you're left all alone, it gives you a lot of time to think on things."

Hermione ducked her head and had the decency to look terribly ashamed.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through so much alone, Harry," she whispered sadly. "I was such a fool."

"Yeah... you were." Harry said simply.

She looked up and her eyes were filled with sadness and remorse. "Will you ever forgive me, Harry?"

_No. Never._

"Of course," he lied effortlessly, giving her a soft, reassuring smile. "It's okay. We're okay, Hermione."

"Really?" She asked with a hopeful gasp and smiled up at him, more brightly than he would have expected. He nodded and she quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

He stiffened instantly, and had to fight the urge to squirm away from her. He didn't like the feel of her holding him. Not one bit. It was nothing like when his companion held him. There was no comfortable sense of home in this embrace. Only awkward discomfort. But he knew he needed to try and smooth out his public relationship with her and Ron. People would be less suspicious of him if he restored his friendship with them. And it would be so much easier on him if people weren't suspicious of him.

People watched him too closely as it was, and it was annoying. He had heard them whispering about him; the fact that he had so obviously distanced himself from his old _friends_ had only added fuel to the fire of speculation around him turning 'dark'.

She finally released him and stepped away, blushing slightly and ducking her head. She smiled up at him, and her face was glowing with relief and happiness.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a soft voice.

"What for?"

"For giving me another chance."

"Of course. We're friends, right? I couldn't stay mad at you guys forever."

She smiled again and ducked her head. He heard a small relieved sigh escape her lips.

Simple. Now, of course, he had to deal with the annoyance of actually talking to them regularly again, and he definitely wasn't looking forward to that. Harry only barely managed to refrain from groaning in frustration.

– –


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

"Blimey, Harry! How did you do that!" Ron exclaimed as the three of them left the defense classroom and began to make their way towards the grand staircase. It was Tuesday and they were finally done with classes for the day and were not working their way to dinner.

"Do what?" Harry replied, slightly confused as to which 'that' Ron was referring to now. He had been under the impression that Ron had been oblivious to most of what he spent the last hour doing.

"That... that... _thing_ you did! What was that?"

"Ron, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Harry barely managing to mask the air of annoyed exasperation in his voice.

"Harry, I think that Ron's referring to the non-verbal spell you used that caused your training dummy to _disintegrate_," Hermione said, while giving him a fairly wary look through narrowed eyes.

"Oh... that?" Harry responded. It had hardly been the highest level spell he had used in their Defense class that day, although he was pretty sure no one noticed the more interesting ones.

They had each been placed in front of a charmed dummy that was spelled to send random hexes at them. Moody told them to disable the dummy as quickly and efficiently as possible, and to do it without getting hexed. Harry took care of it in what he felt like was a rather efficient manner. His spell had hit it on his first shot, and had _utterly _disabled it. Definitely effective.

It was _later_ that he started getting creative and began doing some more... _subtle_ magics around the classroom.

Harry had gotten bored, since he had completed his task first. He was leaning against the wall to the back of the classroom, watching as the rest of his classmates were repeatedly hit with minor hexes by barely animate objects, and were unable to get their attacks past their dummies' weak little shield charms. It was pathetic, really. So he had started messing with people – just sending minor curses and lesser hexes here and there, to amuse himself. They had been complex and subtle, and the fact that he had pulled it all off without anyone the wiser sent an exuberant thrill up his spine.

But Ron wasn't excited about the results of Harry's subtlety. Ron wouldn't have noticed any of them, even if Harry had done it while holding his wand directly under the ginger's nose. No. Ron had never appreciated subtlety. He was getting all excited about the stupid spell he'd used at the start of class. Harry barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Yes, _that,"_ Hermione said, with a fairly accusatory tone. "What _was_ that, Harry? Where on earth did you learn something like that?"

"Erm... read it in a book, somewhere. Don't remember, where exactly," Harry said with a dismissive shrug. Truth was that his companion had whispered it in his ear a week earlier when he was trying to come up with different curses and hexes to practice in preparation for the tournament. He still didn't know what the next task would be, but he didn't see any harm with practicing curses. Seemed like a decent enough use of his free time to Harry.

"I didn't hear you say anything when you cast it," Ron said, his voice filled with a bit of awe. "Did you seriously cast it without saying anything!"

Hermione huffed in exasperation. "Merlin, Ron! Harry has been doing almost all of his classwork non-verbally for more than a month! How could you not have noticed!"

"Seriously!" Ron exclaimed and turned to gape at Harry.

"Uh... yeah, Ron. I have." _Idiotic, unobservant, git._ Harry thought as he rolled his eyes. His companion burst into cackles of laughter, making it very difficult for Harry to keep a straight face until it subsided.

"How did you learn to do that!" Ron exclaimed.

"Learned it while I was studying _on my own,_ you know – for the _dragon_," Harry said in a rather annoyed tone.

Ron's ears went pink and he looked down at his feet.

"So what spell was it?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry and giving him a rather expectant look. "I mean, the one you used today in Defense."

Harry clenched his jaw in irritation, trying to hold back the urge to snap at her and tell her to mind her own damned business. Instead he took a slow breath and pulled back on a disinterested mask.

"It's called _distraxi," _he replied once he was sure he could keep the anger out of his voice.

Hermione frowned. "I've never heard of it."

Harry was unable to refrain from rolling his eyes this time. "Obviously," he remarked sarcastically.

They reached the landing on the first floor and began to make their way towards the entrance hall.

"What _is_ the spell, _exactly?"_ Hermione persisted. "I mean, what does it do?"

Harry's hand was fisting so tightly into the hem of his robe sleeve that his knuckles were turning white, but he managed to maintain a vaguely calm exterior. "It's a dissolving hex, Hermione. Literally it means _to pull into pieces._" The truth was that it wasn't a hex at all. It was a curse. But he knew Hermione would only give him a harder time if he admitted that to her.

"Yes, but what are it's limits? Surely you wouldn't be able to use that spell against... against a _person_ would you? We were supposed to be practicing a way to stop someone attacking us with hexes, Harry. Surely you wouldn't use that spell against a person, would you?"

Harry stopped and turned to look her in the eyes. His face was mostly blank, but the irritation was still blatantly clear. His lids were slightly lowered, and his brows were flat.

"The assignment was to stop the dummy from attacking, and to not get hit. The challenge was to get past the dummy's shield charm and disable it. I did that."

"Well, _yes_, but shouldn't you find a way to do that in a way that you could use in a real scenario? You could use that spell to stop a _dummy_, but you wouldn't be able to do that if it were a real person... right? What would that spell _do_ against a real person?"

"What exactly are you suggesting?" he asked, flatly.

"Well, it just seems a bit... destructive, that's all. Are you sure it's just a hex? It looked like a _curse_, Harry. Especially since it managed to get through the training dummy's shield so easily..."

"And _diffindo_ isn't destructive? _Bombarda_ isn't destructive? What about _confringo?_" he sneered.

"What's your point?" Hermione asked, taking on a rather defensive posture.

"My _point _is that all of those spells are all neutral spells that are taught as a part of the standard Hogwarts defense curriculum, and they're all _destructive_ too. Bloody _bombarda _is taught in classes! I don't see how the spell I used was any worse."

"Bombarda isn't taught until sixth year, Harry!"

"_You_ used it _last year!_" he pointed out.

"Well, yes, but I read ahead! And you haven't answered my question. What would that spell do if used on a living person?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he glared down icily at the bushy-haired brunette. "It would do exactly what it did to the _dummy_," he bit out in a harsh whisper.

Hermione's eyes widened in slowly dawning horror and Harry turned away and continued to stride down the hallway. Hermione stood stunned in place and Ron stood there with his head turning back and forth from Hermione to Harry and back again before he hurried down the hall to catch up with Harry.

"You're kidding, right, mate?" Ron said as he caught up and matched Harry's harsh strides. "I mean... it tore that dummy to pieces and dissolved it into dust! In like... five seconds flat! It wouldn't really do that to a _person_ would it?"

Harry grumbled in frustration as he came to a stop and turned to glare back at his 'friends'.

"Do you know why the killing curse is called the _killing curse?"_

Ron blanched but shook his head no.

"Because that's _all it can do._ It kills you. It's quick, painless, and honestly – probably the most humane way you_ can_ kill a person. Do you know how many _other_ magic spells can kill a person? Hundreds! Probably thousands, if you're creative enough.

"You can kill a person if you slice their throat open with a well aimed _diffindo_. You can kill someone with a _bombarda_ if you blast them out a window, or off a ledge, or blast some big piece of something hard into their head. If you're point-blank and put enough force into the spell, you could probably blow a person apart with _confringo_! Bloody hell, guys, you can kill a person with a pencil if you're really dedicated! Just because I used a spell that _could _be used to kill someone doesn't mean that that is it's only use. Do you want to ban quills because someone _could_ stab you in the eye with one?"

"Yeah but _that spell_ seemed like a really _dark_ spell, Harry," Hermione whispered as she came to stand beside Ron. "It just.. it felt _dark._"

"Well it's not. It's a neutral magic spell like the others because it has uses that have nothing to do with maiming or killing a person," Harry shouted at her. _Of course, it's only just barely a neutral spell..._ he silently admitted to himself. "Besides, do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to use a dark spell in _school? In class!_"

"Are you saying that you know some!" Hermione gasped.

Harry growled in anger. "No! Of course not!" _Well... maybe a few... but it's not like I'm going to tell __**you**__ that._ He amended, mentally, and his companion snickered.

"Well, I'd certainly hope not! It's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, not the _Dark Arts class!"_

"Merlin, guys! I learn a few spells outside the standard curriculum and suddenly you're jumping on the '_Harry Potter is going dark_' bandwagon!"

"I just don't see why you'd need to learn a spell that tears things apart like that!" Hermione argued, defensively.

"Uh – does the _Tri-Wizard Tournament_ ring any bells, Hermione? You know, I'd really prefer _not_ to end up dead this year. I'm going to learn whatever the hell I need to learn to survive this thing."

Hermione made to open her mouth but snapped it shut and looked down.

"I'm sorry, Harry. You're right."

"Thank you!" Harry said in angry exasperation while throwing his hands into the air.

Hermione sighed heavily and turned back down the hall and the three of them resumed their trek to the Great Hall.

"You've been doing really brilliant in classes lately," Hermione whispered in a very quiet voice after an uncomfortable minute of silence.

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at her suspiciously for a moment before masking it away an taking on a forced bashful expression.

"Er, thanks."

"Do you... do you think you could teach me some of that non-verbal magic you've been doing? Maybe point me to whatever book you learned it from?"

Harry blinked at her in surprise. "Uh... I... I don't really know Hermione. I mean, I didn't exactly read it from a book or anything."

Hermione stopped and looked at him with a furrowed, confused brow.

"How'd you learn it then?"

"I just sort of... started doing it. I kind of had an epiphany earlier this term one Saturday morning when I was doing a lot of thinking. I can't really explain it, but I sort of figured out how to tap into my magic in a way I never had before. I just.. _get it_ now. I really wouldn't have any idea how to instruct someone else on it though."

She frowned and sighed. "Oh... alright."

The trio entered the great hall and made their way to the Gryffindor table. Harry managed to avoid much of the conversation for the majority of the meal. Ron and Seamus, who were sitting opposite Harry and Hermione at the table, got into a heated discussion about some upcoming Quidditch match between the Ballycastle Bats and the Chudley Cannons. Hermione ended up eating while reading, and Harry was grateful for the opportunity to be left alone for a while. He knew he would have to soak it up while he could since his _friends_ would expect him to stay with them in the common room to do their homework.

Harry had just finished eating when he heard a startled choking noise from Ron. He looked up and saw Ron's jaw hanging so far open it was practically resting on the table. A glance to the left revealed an identical expression gracing Seamus's face.

Harry was about to ask what they were gawking at when he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. Harry turned around in his seat and saw none other than Fleur Delacour standing just behind him.

His eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise for only the briefest of seconds before he pulled on a confident grin and nodded his head.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, what a pleasure it is to see you this fine evening," Harry said with mock seriousness and a silly dip of his head. She giggled and rolled her eyes at him. Harry heard a strangled whimper noise emanate from somewhere in Ron's throat, but ignored it.

"Please, 'arry. Call me Fleur," she said grinning.

"My lady you honor me," Harry said, still grinning cockily. "So to what do I owe the pleasure? Have you already made your decision?"

"I have," she said, grinning even larger.

"Are you going to keep me hanging here? I'm absolutely desperate with anticipation."

She laughed. "You really are quite amusing 'arry. I do hope you will keep me just as entertained at zee ball."

Harry's brows rose questioning. "Does that mean you've accepted my invitation?"

She rolled her eyes and giggled lightly. "Yes, 'arry. I accept."

Harry beamed at her. "Brilliant."

"I will let you know where to come collect me for zee ball when zee event draws nearer."

"I look forward to it."

"So do I," she said with a smirk as she began to turn away. "See you later, 'arry."

"Bye Fleur."

Harry turned back to the table, chuckling lightly and feeling a smug sense of accomplishment. He looked up and saw that the entirety of the Gryffindor table... and everyone from most of the other tables, for that matter – were all staring at him.

Ron's face was almost as red as his hair and he was making squeaking noises in his throat.

"You alright there Ron?" Harry asked with mock concern.

"Was that what I think that was?" Seamus asked in a choked gasp.

"What do you think it was?" Harry asked, grinning.

"Did... wait, did you ask Fleur Delacour to go to the dance with you!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry said with a dismissive shrug.

"When!"

"Um... last week. Morning after McGonagall announced the ball."

"For real!"

"Yeah."

"And she just accepted!" Seamus continued, his voice growing higher in pitch with each word.

Harry laughed and shook his head in affirmative. "Yes, Seamus. I asked her out, and she said yes," Harry said slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child.

Ron's jaw was now floundering up and down and his eyes were oddly dilated. Harry reached across the table and waved his hand in front of Ron's face.

"You alright there, mate?"

"F-ff—fleu..." he began to stutter.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to Seamus. "So you asked anyone yet?"

"Oh, yeah. I asked Lavender. She said yes."

"Congrats man."

Seamus coughed out a laugh. "Nah, Harry. If anyone should be congratulating anyone, I should be congratulating _you._ I can't believe you had the balls to ask out Fleur! Even more... I can't believe she said yes!"

Harry laughed. "Is it really so hard to believe I could get a date?"

"It's not that, Harry. It's just that she's _Fleur Delacour! _And you're just a forth year!"

"F-f-fl-fl..." Ron continued to stutter, dumbly.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I know. I think the fact that I'm able to talk to her without stuttering and drooling like a babbling buffoon really improved my chances, though."

Ron's jaw snapped shut and his face went red again.

"I don't know how you manage it, though," Seamus said with awe in his voice. "I mean... you were just talking to her so easily there! How can you not go all dumb around her?"

Harry shrugged and reached down to grab his bag. "I don't know, I just don't." He turned to Hermione who was giving him a small knowing smile and he rolled his eyes at her. "I'm gonna head back to the common room. I'll see you all later, alright?"

"Alright. See you later Harry," Hermione said.

– – –

The next morning at breakfast a speckled gray owl swooped down through the great hall along with the countless other post owls, and settled on the table in front of Harry. Harry's excitement grew and he quickly reached for the parchment wrapped around it's leg. He gave it a piece of bacon off his plate and quickly unrolled the letter.

"Who's that from, mate?" Ron said through a mouth full of eggs. Harry barely managed to stop the sneer that wanted to spread across his face as a few pieces of food fell out of Ron's mouth and onto the table.

_Disgusting __whelp..._

He shook his head and looked back down at the letter. It was from Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary in Knockturn Alley.

Harry quickly read over the letter and his lips curled into a devilish grin.

"What is it Harry?" Hermione asked as she leaned over his shoulder a bit. He scowled as he quickly folded it shut before she could read it. He masked his annoyance and took on a simple innocent expression.

"I ordered some things from the apothecary in Hogsmeade, but they didn't have some of the ingredients I needed so they recommended I write to an apothecary in Diagon Alley. This is them and they have what I need."

"What sort of ingredients?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

"I needed some Re'em blood."

Hermione blanched. "What on earth for!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "For a potion."

Hermione scowled slightly in annoyance. "Yes, Harry, I figured that much. What potion are you trying to brew though?"

"A strength enhancing potion for the next task," Harry lied easily.

"Are you allowed potions in the next task?" she asked, surprised.

"Of course. That's the point of being given the clue so far in advanced. The sooner you figure it out, the more time you have to prepare."

"Oh. That makes sense. So you've figured it out then."

"Mmhmm," Harry hummed in a rather noncommittal way as he took a bit of food. "As soon as all my ingredients show up, I'm going to have to spend some time in the dungeons brewing."

"We can help you mate," Ron said. Harry almost snorted. _As if I would want __**your**__ help with potions._

"Nope," Harry said easily. "It's for the task. I'm supposed to do it on my own."

"Oh... right."

Harry smirked. _Too easy._

Now he had a great excuse to get away from them to do his brewing without having to make any extra excuses. And he could always claim the potions he was making would take multiple days to brew and get away from them even more.

– – –

The next morning a small crate from the Hogsmeade Apothecary arrived, carried by two brown post owls. Two days after that, the box containing the Runespore eggs and Re'em blood arrived from Knockturn Alley. It was the last day of term, and Harry had a potions exam that day on brewing antidotes.

Harry knew that he'd have an easier time with his brewing if he actually got permission to use the potions lab during break, rather than trying to sneak in, or trying to brew the potion somewhere poorly equipped for brewing, so he decided to ask Snape after class.

–

The exam was surprisingly easy. Harry was pretty sure he got most of the written questions correct, and, since his practical potion was brewed alone instead of with a partner, he was able to get it completed without anything exploding. He was completed with his test fourth behind Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, and Hermione, but his potion looked better than Greengrass's did, and he never expected to do better in potions than Hermione or Malfoy.

Unfortunately, since it was an exam class, it meant that once Harry was done with his test, there was nothing for him to do until everyone else had finished as well. Everyone else left as they finished, and Ron looked at Harry with mild confusion when he saw Harry sit back down after handing in his potion and test parchment.

It didn't take long for Harry to grow incredibly bored, so he reached into his bag and pulled out the potions book from the restricted section.

The two 'non-restricted' potions that Harry planned to brew were, an advanced nutritional restorative potion, and a bone and muscle restructuring potion.

Both of these potions, however, would normally require Harry to take them every day for years to reach the level of correction that he wanted to gain. They would slowly, and gradually correct the damage done by a decade of malnutrition.

The third potion - the one he got from the restricted section book – was an accelerant potion and it had been invented by a wizard that felt that the other two potions, and other restorative potions like them, took too damned long. It would speed up and magnify the effects of the other two potions, as well as having a number of lesser benefits of its own.

He would still need to brew enough of the first two potions to take one dose every day, but only for two months instead of multiple years. The accelerant potion would be taken eight times. Once a week he would need to take a dose of it, and ideally at a point in time where he could remain in bed for twelve hours without being disturbed, because it would be painful and leave him entirely bedridden.

Thus, his plan was to do it on either Friday or Saturday nights, and come up with some excuse about training or some such thing, to keep his _friends_ away. Of course he still needed to figure out _where_ he was going to stay while he endured these sessions. He was still working on that part.

Harry began to thumb through some of the later chapters in the potions book. _Brews and Rituals of Permanent Improvement_ by Scaliea Vanity. It was a fascinating book. Everything covered in the book would be... well, _permanent._ Memory enhancement rituals, physical strengthening potions, brews to drastically increase mental clarity and cognitive thinking.

Harry had to admit that more than a few were tempting. However they tended to have side-effects that would be to visibly obvious for him to risk doing many of them while at school. Possibly after he graduated he'd go through and do several of them.

Of course, the potions he was planning on taking would cause a _visibly noticeable change_ too. Hopefully he could get away with claiming he had a magical growth spurt, and had been exercising to get in shape for the tournament.

He looked back down at the book. There were _definitely_ a fair number of things in it he was interested in trying later. He wished he could just copy the darn thing, but the copyright spells on it prevented that. He considered just keeping it. He hadn't actually 'checked it out', so no one actually knew he had it. But he suspected that there were charms on all of the library books that prevented them from being removed from the school.

_Write the... publisher..._

Harry blinked and then rolled his eyes at himself for not thinking of it on his own. He flipped to the front cover page and looked for any information on the publisher. He found it right away and pulled out a piece of parchment to copy it down.

_Jasper Beech; Crespus Publishing_

He would write a letter to them asking if he could buy a copy of the book directly from them, as soon as he was done with Snape.

Speaking of which... Harry looked around the room and saw that Goyle and Lavender Brown were the only ones left in the room. Neither of their potions looked very promising, and Harry doubted that Snape had the patience to actually wait for the two of them to finish.

Figuring he'd make use of the time he had, Harry began to pen the letter to the publisher. It was pretty simple. Just asking about the specific book and whether or not he could buy a copy direct from the publisher, and if he couldn't, asking if there was a reseller that he could contact instead. He signed the letter under the same alias, Notechus Noir, that he had used with the apothecary, and folded it up and placed it into the cover of his book.

He looked up just as Snape strode angrily down the isle and glared at Lavender and Goyle. He growled at them to just bottle what they had and turn in their tests. Harry packed away his things and sat back in his chair, waiting until the other two had cleared out.

As soon as the dungeon door closed behind Goyle, Snape spun around and glared at Harry.

"Potter," he hissed in a quiet, threatening tone, "_what_ are you still doing here?"

"I need to brew some potions in preparation for the next task. I was planning to do it during the Christmas holidays and was hoping I could do it in one of the dungeon potion labs," Harry said quickly, getting straight to the point. He knew that drawing this out would only irritate Snape more.

The potions master narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry speculatively.

"And you really need to make use of one of my class rooms for this little task of yours?" Snape sneered with an air of skepticism.

"I was hoping so, yes. I need somewhere quiet where I can concentrate and where I won't have any of my house mates breathing down my neck. I'd also prefer to do it in a properly equipped potions lab then in some random empty classroom. I wanted to get your permission first though and make sure that I wouldn't be causing you any inconvenience by using one of the labs you would be using."

Snape's lip curled up disdainfully. "How unlike you, Potter. Actually taking other people's needs, and the _rules_ into consideration ahead of your own self interests."

Internally, Harry rolled his eyes. Externally, Harry retained a perfectly blank expression. "Would it be alright sir?"

Snape's eyes narrowed and he pierced Harry with them for a long minute before giving him a curt nod.

"You may use potions lab B. It will remain unused the entire break."

The corners of Harry's mouth turned up the slightest bit. "Thank you, sir," he said eagerly. "I really do appreciate it."

Snape looked disgusted by the display and quickly shooed Harry out of his classroom.

Harry didn't dawdle and quickly left the dungeons and began to make his way towards the owlery. If he was lucky, he could get that letter sent out before Ron or Hermione caught up with him again, so he wouldn't have to make up some lie about who he was writing to, or why.

– – –

The next day was Saturday and once lunch was over, he begged off from Ron and Hermione, informing them that he was going to start brewing his potions and would be unavailable for the rest of the day.

He had collected all of his ingredients into a single box, and took it, along with the necessary potion brewing supplies down to potions lab B, and quickly set everything up.

It took him the whole afternoon and into the evening to brew the first potion. He had a huge vat of the stuff when he was done, and conjured a wooden sectioned box and four dozen small glass phials. He carefully measured out two months worth of doses and put one dose into each phial.

He put away all of his supplies and his new box full of potion, and cleaned up his workstation. He did a quick shrinking spell on the wooden box, and then a cushioning barrier around it before slipping it into his bag and making his way out of the dungeon.

He was absolutely wiped out when he was finally done, and headed straight up to bed.

The following day was the same. He brewed the muscle and bone regrowth that day, and it took just as long. Again, he conjured another wooden box and another large set of small crystal jars – larger this time since the dose of this potion was about three times that of the other one.

Monday arrived and Harry took his first dose of each of the two potions. Neither tasted good, but they weren't nearly as fowl as some of the other potions he'd endured in Madam Pomfrey's care over the years.

Friday was the Yule Ball, so Harry planned on doing his first dose of the accelerant potion Saturday night, through Sunday morning. But first he had to brew it. Since he knew this one would take the longest he planned to leave Ron and Hermione right after breakfast. About half way through the meal an owl arrived with what looked like a mail order catalog attacked to it's leg. Harry looked at it with mild confusion for a moment before he removed it from the bird and gave it some sausage.

Upon closer examination, Harry realized it was from the book publisher, Crespus Publishing, that his potions book came from. He grinned as he read a small note attached to it from _Mr. Jasper Beech; owner and operator_, saying that the book he inquired about had a newer edition available and that he could order it directly from them, using their owl-order service. Details were included in their catalog.

Harry packed it into his bag and told Ron and Hermione he was heading out to start working on his potion. Ron whined about Harry wasting his holidays with ruddy potions work, and Hermione told him to make sure he still had time to dedicate to his holiday homework with all this potion work he was doing.

Harry only _just_ managed to walk away without saying something snarky to them, and made his way down to the dungeons.

– – –

Harry could not describe how grateful he was for the presence of his companion when it came to the brewing of his last potion. It was an incredibly delicate matter and it was, quite honestly, above Harry's level. But his companion was surprisingly patient and his guidance was always delivered in just the right way.

During the lulls between ingredients, or between the times when he had to stand and stir it so many times counter clockwise before adding in a single clockwise stir, Harry sat down at his workbench and thumbed through the catalog.

It became quite obvious right away that Crespus Publishing specialized in questionable books on questionable subject matter. Yet quite a few of those _'questionable'_ subjects sparked an exited wave of curiosity in Harry.

He chewed on the edge of his quill, waging an internal battle. A wicked grin spread across his lips and he chuckled and shrugged to himself as he put quill to parchment and marked down all the books he wanted to order.

There were quite a few.

–

By the time dinner had rolled around, Harry had finished. His potion was a semi translucent silvery sludge. It oozed out of the ladle and into the eight jars he had to hold it. He didn't imagine he would enjoy swallowing that down, but he was surprised to find that it actually smelled rather nice. Sort like lilacs.

Harry cleaned up his workstation, packed away his supplies and made his way to Gryffindor tower. He stowed his things, before grabbing the order form from his bag and jogging towards the owlery.

– –

The rest of the week passed peacefully. Each morning he would take another dose of the first two potions, and then spend his day either in the common room reading, or relaxing in bed, in his mindscape with his companion.

The gray mottled discoloration had spread through almost every space of his mindscape. The black mist also took up almost a quarter of the large space and it gave his companion more room to wander. Harry found that he could will the dark ambiguous mass that he once relaxed in, into a specific form if he desired it, so he turned it into a large overstuffed black leather couch.

The whole thing was just in his head, and having a couch there to rest in didn't actually effect his enjoyment of the time he spent with his companion, but it was a luxury he enjoyed giving himself, so he kept it there.

Besides, he liked the image of the two of them curled up together on the large leather couch. The leather felt cool and luxurious against his skin, too – even though he knew that was just imagined in his head.

–

Harry hadn't been present for the actual incident, but Ron had apparently managed to offend Hermione at the start of the week. He had been suddenly inspired with the realization that Hermione was a girl, and had asked her to the ball in a fit of desperation, while also insinuating that she couldn't possibly have a date to the ball already. The poor idiot had also been stupid enough to point out that while it was bad for a bloke to show up without a date, it was downright mortifying for a girl.

Hermione had refused to speak to him after that.

At some point later that day, Ron had finally gotten so horrified by the prospect of showing up to the dance without a date that he had just yelled out a panicked 'invitation' to the first girl he had come across at the time – which apparently had been Parvati Patil.

–

Tuesday night Harry had sat in his mindscape with his companion trying to come up with a private place where he could take his potion. He needed somewhere where no one would be able to bother him. He could cast silencing charms, so it didn't necessarily need to be sound proof, but it wouldn't hurt.

He was frustrated by his lack of options and finally slipped into sleep, still unsure as to what he was going to do.

He woke that morning with inspiration. For a few solid minutes he was sure he knew the perfect place where only he could go and no one could bother him. Then reality fell upon him like a bucket of ice water and he frowned.

The Chamber... that was what he had thought. He could slip down into the Chamber and have absolutely no worry of anyone interrupting him. But then he remembered the state of the Chamber and how utterly disgusted with the place he had been.

Plus there was also a great rotting basilisk down there. It had already smelled rather foul down there. Now there would be the added _benefit_ of two years worth of giant rotting snake corpse.

Harry grimaced.

Yet he was getting the distinct impression from the tiny presence he could feel of his companion in the back of his mind, that he should still investigate the idea.

After lunch he told Ron and Hermione that he needed to check on a potion he had on a slow long-term simmer and that he didn't know how long he'd be away. He ran up to Gryffindor tower and grabbed his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map. He slipped into an empty classroom on the third floor and slipped on the cloak and pulled out and activated the map. Once he was sure the coast was clear and no one would be around to catch him slipping into Myrtle's bathroom, he went to the 2nd floor and slipped inside.

Fortunately, the ghost seemed absent so he went straight over to the sink that didn't work and hissed _§open§ _at the tap. The sink moved and shifted away, revealing a wide opening into a deep, dark, tunnel.

Harry's lip turned up into a disgusted sneer at the sight of the pipe. He did _not_ want to go sliding down the thing like he had in his second year. He wondered if he should have brought his broom along with he felt his companion's presence grow in his mind.

_Stairs.._

"_Huh?"_

_Call for stairs._

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion for a moment but he knelt down at the edge of the hole and hissed out _§Stairs§._

The smooth edges of the tunnel suddenly began to change shape and narrow, steep steps emerged from it. The first section was so steep it was practically a ladder, but it was still a tremendous improvement. Harry grinned.

He began to climb down and once his head was below the entrance he hissed the close command and was instantly shrouded in darkness. He pulled out his wand and cast a _lumos_ to light the tip. It didn't take him too long to climb down, and a short distance down the tunnel widened and shifted into a gradual slide enough that he could traverse the steps without bending over ducking, or having to climb down like a ladder.

He finished his decent and entered the larger tunnel filled with the bones of countless little dead things. When he came upon the section of tunnel that had caved in slightly he hissed out some banishing spells and waved the rock pile away, reveling in the exquisite sensation of his magic whirling around him and coursing through him. It surged and tingled in delicious ways that made his stomach curl when he wielded it to do larger things like this. Unfortunately he rarely had the opportunity to do anything larger.

The idea crossed his mind that even if he didn't use the Chamber to take his potion, he could still come down here to practice magic in private. That thought excited and a large grin spread across his lips.

He came across the entrance to the anti-chamber commanded it open with another hiss. He braced himself for a wave of horrific rotting odor but was surprised to find that there was no significant increase in the smell of dead things.

He entered the Chamber and came up short upon the sight of the basilisk corpse. He had almost forgotten how enormous the damned thing was.

Had he really fought against that monster when he was twelve?

He shook his head and was filled with a boiling rage that he had been forced into a situation like that. Why the bloody hell did _he_ have to keep dealing with these things? Granted, the teachers weren't capable of parseltongue, so they couldn't have gotten down to the chamber, but was there really _no way_ for them to use magic to find the place?

Although, he supposed, Slytherin had probably gone to a lot of trouble to keep the place hidden, so conventional magic was probably useless, especially if you don't know what your looking for.

Still... didn't the school have wards to detect dark artifacts? Why hadn't the diary ever been detected? Everyone claimed that Hogwarts' wards were supposed to be some of the most powerful in the world, and that the school was the safest place in Britain.

Harry snorted.

_Yeah, __right._

It was all just empty words. The wards didn't detect shit. And if they did, Dumbledore didn't know how to read them, or willingly ignored them.

Hell! Voldemort had been in the school for an _entire year_, latched onto the back of Quirrell's head! What did the wards even _do_ if they couldn't catch Voldemort roaming around the school on the back of a teacher's head, or a dark artifact like that diary? Clearly nothing.

Harry shook his head.

He was always on his own. No one ever protected him. No one ever had. He had always had to look out for himself. He'd had to look after himself at the Dursley's, and that hadn't changed one bit upon entering the wizarding world. All that changed was that now more people were trying to kill him.

And why? He realized he hardly knew. He fought against them simply out of defense. Just desperately trying to stay alive. He'd gotten into half of his messes because he felt the need to try and save people, but what was the point of running around like a fool saving people if all it did was get you killed?

He sighed heavily and tried to shake the bothersome thoughts from his mind. He began to stroll around the enormous serpent and was mildly bewildered at how... _intact_ it appeared.

It didn't look like it had rotted at all!

_Magically preserved..._ His companion's voice explained in a breathy whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

Harry nodded his head and looked down at the monstrous beast approvingly. It really was a shame he'd had to kill it. Of course it was that or get eaten.

_Go to the statue..._

Harry paused and turned to look at the great statue of Salazar Slytherin that the basilisk had emerged from two years ago. It was still open and he briskly walked over to it. He peered into the inky blackness and squinted. He flipped his wrist and sent a series of small glowing balls of light down the tunnel, each stopping five feet further down than the last and lighting the long, large tunnel.

It seemed to go for a surprisingly long way and he began to trek down it.

About 20 feet in he felt the urge to stop fill him. He had a feeling it was coming from his companion, but the other presence remained silent. Harry looked around the large tunnel he was standing in and felt a pulse of magic from the wall beside him. He reached his hand out and brushed it against the smooth rocky surface. There was something there and he brought his wand closer.

A small serpent was carved into the rock. Curious, he leaned in and whispered _§Open§_, just to see if it would work.

A second later a seam appeared in the smooth rock in the shape of a door. The rock sunk back and slid to the side revealing an entryway.

Curious, Harry stepped inside and was stunned by what he found.

It was a study. And it was coated in a thick later of dust. The room was about the same size as Dumbledore's office. There was a plush chaise lounge of some sort, a wide, intricately carved wooden desk, and a large high-back wooden chair also carved with designs of snakes curling up the legs and up the back support. The walls were lined, floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, all of which were filled with books.

Harry walked over and began to examine some of the room with eager excitement.

He cast a _lumos maxima_ and sent the glowing light to the ceiling so as to better illuminate the space while he explored. While it was true that it was covered in dust, it wasn't nearly enough to be a thousand years worth. Riddle must have gotten into this place too, he reasoned. Probably cleaned it up some during his time at Hogwarts.

Harry walked over to the chaise lounge and with a quick sweep of his wand and a controlled swirl of his magic, all of the dust and dirt was banished from it.

It looked like velvet or something similar. It was a deep emerald green, and had small shiny black buttons in the shape of skulls sewn into the back and side rest, pulling the plush fabric in, every six inches or so.

He ran his hand over the fabric and it felt smooth and soft. He smiled. This was perfect.

He could come down here once a week to take his potion and be guaranteed complete privacy. And he could practice his spell work down here in the basilisk chamber. He knew the schools wards didn't detect anything down here, so there was so worry...

He paused and felt a sense of excited anticipation surge through him. He could try out some of those... _dark _spells... He hadn't felt safe actually casting any of them since he didn't know if there was anyway for someone to detect he was doing it. Plus he didn't really have anywhere private enough to do it. But now he did.

He only had the smallest of reservations about practicing dark magic. His opinion of the branch of magic had changed drastically over the last two months, although he couldn't quite pinpoint why.

It was all magic. Light, dark, neutral. It was all knowledge, and to limit himself to only one or two of the branches, he was only holding himself back. Willingly keeping himself ignorant of a potentially powerful well of knowledge and magic seemed idiotic to him now.

He was at school to learn magic, and for the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, he found himself consumed with a hunger for knowledge. Each new spell he learned - each new theory he came to understand - the more excited he became. It was thrilling to wield such power.

Why shouldn't he learn to use every branch of magic that interested him?

Harry spent two hours exploring the study and the books contained within it. He was literally gleeful - vibrating with excitement. He slipped two into his bag and left the study. He continued down the long tunnel and found the massive chamber where the basilisk had clearly lived. It was filled with bones and filth and Harry quickly left to return to the entry chamber, and then back out and up the stairs.

He checked the Map to make sure the coast was clear before commanding the sink to move aside so he could leave. He glamored the cover of one of the books to look like his transfiguration textbook and settled into one of the chairs in the common room.

Ron tried to get Harry to join him in a game of chess, but Harry said he was busy and couldn't. Hermione smiled in apparent approval at Harry's new studious attitude. Harry smirked, internally. She would hardly be so approving if she knew he was reading about the fundamentals of dark theory.

– –


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Christmas morning arrived and Harry lay in bed for about a half hour, sunk into his mindscape and spending as much of the morning as he thought he could get away with, with his dark companion.

It was destined to be interrupted though, and Harry found himself being 'shaken awake' by an enthusiastic Ron, shouting about presents and breakfast.

Hermione was still giving Ron the cold shoulder in response to his latest display of insensitive idiocy, and Ron only made it worse by persisting that Hermione had to be lying about having a date.

Hermione, and the rest of the girls of Gryffindor disappeared around 4pm so that they could go get ready for the dance. Harry thought it was ridiculous that it could possibly take anyone four hours to get dressed and cleaned up – especially considering that they had the aid of magic, and that really could only speed things up – but he wasn't an idiot, and opted to keep his incredulity to himself.

Ron wasn't nearly so smart, and ended up on the receiving end of several girls' scowls.

–

At seven, Harry made his way to the dorm room and got into his dress robes. The 'traditional' set of robes that Mrs. Weasley had sent Ron were absolutely hideous and it took every last ounce of will power on Harry's behalf not to burst out in in pearls of laughter at how utterly idiotic the ginger looked in them.

Harry begged off early, both because he was running out of the strength necessary not to laugh at Ron, but also because he needed to go wait for Fleur.

Harry made his way towards the entrance hall and waited for Fleur where they had agreed upon. She didn't keep him waiting too long, and for that, he was grateful.

Harry complimented her on her dress and hair, and the two made easy small talk. Mostly they bantered, and she seemed to find him sufficiently entertaining. McGonagall gathered up all of the champions and pulled them into the side-room, just off the great hall where first years waited before they were sorted at the start of term.

When Viktor Krum entered the room with Hermione on his arm Harry grinned widely at her. She looked sufficiently gleeful. She blushed and ducked her head when she spotted him grinning at her. Cedric came in with the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang on his arm.

Finally McGonagall came back and lead them all into the Great Hall. They made a procession down the center of the gathered crowd and onto the dance floor. Harry caught sight of a furious looking Ron as Hermione walked past him with Krum. Harry grimaced as a small sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew that look. It was the look that meant Ron was going to do something monumentally stupid before the end of the night.

Harry sighed and simply hoped he wouldn't be there whenever the ginger did whatever stupid thing he was going to end up doing.

Harry led Fleur onto the dance floor, placed his hand easily on her waist and in her hand, and led her in the traditional waltz that was expected of them for the start of the ball.

A minute into the dance, the rest of the students and professors joined in and the ball had officially begun.

"You just keep surprising me 'arry." Fleur said with a little smirk.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You are a surprisingly good dancer."

"Why thank you, but it's only because your beautiful presence at my side has inspired me to do my best."

She laughed. "I doubt that."

Harry looked at her curiously and tilted his head to the side a bit in mild confusion.

She gave him a knowing little smirk before diverting the conversation onto another topic. They stayed on the dance floor for two more dances before Harry finally decided to try slipping into her mind. He knew it would be easier to find information in her memories of the the task if she was actively thinking about it, but he didn't want to bring up the tournament in their conversation.

He couldn't actually _ask her_, and even _mentioning_ the second task would surely make her realize he was fishing for information. So instead he distracted her with aimless banter on the school's pathetically limited elective classes. Fleur took up the conversation eagerly and boasted proudly on the multitude of subjects offered at Beauxbatons that Hogwarts did not.

While she talked Harry began digging through her mind, searching for anything in relation to the egg or the task. It was taking longer than he had hoped, and he was finding it hard to stay attentive to their conversation while simultaneously searching her mind.

He was just about to give up and wait till later to try again when he finally stumbled across a memory of a rather... er – _naked_ Fleur, getting into a bath with the egg. She pulled the egg under the water and ducked her head down with it.

She opened the egg and instead of the ear piercing screeching, she was graced with singing voices.

Harry wanted to smack himself in the face.

But still – how the hell would he have ever thought to pull the blasted thing under water to listen to it?

He listened to a bit of the clue, and connected it to some mental images she had of the black lake. It was enough. He knew how to get to the clue on his own now and he could focus on that later. Now, he had to focus on his date.

– –

The band switched to a popular wizarding band called the Weird Sisters. The first fast dance was a little awkward for Harry since he'd never actually danced like that before, but he managed to catch on quickly enough. Fundamentally, all that was required was some confidence and the ability to relax and not worry about what anyone else thought. As long as he didn't give a damn about other people judging him, he wasn't afraid to just cut loose and enjoy the music and the rhythm.

By the forth song that the band performed, he was completely losing himself to the dancing and having the time of his life. Fleur laughed and twirled and danced and Harry was pleased to say that she looked to be legitimately enjoying herself.

A few more songs passed before the two of them sat down at one of the tables, giddy and giggly from exertion and dancing. Hermione and Krum joined them at the table a moment later. Hermione was flushed and smiling brightly, clearly she was enjoying herself too. Krum and Harry both stood from the table and left to go get their dates punch and biscuits. Once their task was completed they made their way back to the table and Harry saw Ron sitting _alone_ at another table against the wall, scowling angrily at the whole room in general, and at Krum, more specifically. The distinct lack of Parvati told Harry that Ron had probably already done at least one obnoxiously stupid thing.

Harry rolled his eyes and walked directly back to Fleur, dedicating himself to steering clear of his angry dorm mate for the rest of the night.

The four of them sat and kept up a simple conversation for a short while. Krum seemed to have a twitch, but then Harry noticed that the Bulgarian was just swatting at a beetle that kept flying around their table.

Harry raised his hand subtly and focused his magic on the desire to ward off the insect. He covered his mouth with his other hand, and turned his head to the side, as if he were covering a cough and hissed _§away!§_ while keeping his eyes trained on the beetle and twitching his fingers.

The small black insect was instantly sent flying far away and Harry smirked. It was a stupid simple piece of magic, but he'd not only done it without any wand, but he'd also done it without anyone the wiser.

After chatting through another song, Harry felt he'd sufficiently found his second wind and asked Fleur if she was interested in returning to the dance floor. She smiled widely and nodded her head, eagerly allowing Harry to lead her away from the table.

Fleur was a fantastic dancer, Harry decided. Some of her movements got a bit on the risque side in some of the songs, but Harry just laughed and played along. She was clearly amused and the pair of them both seemed to enjoy the watchful eyes locked on them several times through the coarse of the night.

The crowd was beginning to thin, and Harry realized that there was only about thirty minutes left until the ball was officially over. Harry and Fleur were leaving the dance floor in a fit of giggles after a particularly risque set of dance moves made Professor Vector snort punch out her nose in shock.

Their antics had also caused several of the boys dancing in their vicinity to trip over their own feet and fall down, taking their dance partners with them.

They had finally decided that they were causing too much of a scene and willing vacated the dance floor in search of more punch.

Harry came back to Fleur's side after grabbing a couple cups of punch. She was still slightly breathless and recovering from her giggles.

"Oh 'arry, you are far too much fun," she said, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she finally calmed her chuckles.

"I try, I try," he said with a mock bow before taking a sip of his drink.

Harry was about to open his mouth to say something else when his attention was suddenly drawn to a familiar angry voice. Harry turned towards the sound just in time to see an obviously distressed Hermione standing opposite an indignant looking Ron. Her hands were balled into fists, and her eyes were alight with barely restrained fury.

She growled out angrily, but Harry couldn't make out any of the words. The next thing he knew, Hermione picked up a cup of punch and tossed it into Ron's face before angrily stomping off towards the exit.

Harry blinked and then slowly turned back to Fleur, barely restraining the amusement in his expression.

"What do you sink dat was about?" Fleur said with wide curious eyes as she continued to look over Harry's shoulder to the now soaking wet and pink Ron.

Harry shook his head and sighed. "Ron is an idiot. He probably said something appropriately idiotic."

"Isn't he one of your friends?"

Harry snorted, but quickly shifted his expression. "Er... I suppose. Or we used to be, but we've kind of grown apart a bit. I think the biggest problem is I grew up a bit since last year, and he... well, he _hasn't_."

"Ah. Should you go check on your friend 'ermione?"

"She's probably run off somewhere to have a good cry. I probably wouldn't even be able to help her even if I could find her."

Harry led Fleur back onto the floor only one more time that night, for the final song of the night. Finally, the band pack up and left, and all of the students began to disperse.

Harry walked with Fleur back towards the wing where the Beauxbatons students were being housed during their stay.

"I had a truly wonderful tonight, 'arry. Thank you for inviting me," Fleur said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye as they came to a stop beside a deserved alcove a brief distance from where they would have to part ways.

Harry grinned and shrugged. "I had fun too. Thank _you_ for accepting my invitation."

Fleur smiled and gave Harry a rather piercing look for a long silent moment. Harry felt an odd tingling sensation float through him for a moment. It was a foreign sort of magic he wasn't familiar with and he narrowed his eyes and looked at her speculatively.

"What are you doing?" he asked when his curiosity got too powerful to ignore.

Fleur ducked her head, but her grin was obvious. "Just testing a theory. Tell me something 'arry. You're gay, aren't you?"

Harry's eyes widened and he blinked at her in surprise. "Er..." he began but snapped his mouth shut. He scrutinized her for a moment before he chuckled and shrugged. "Yeah. How'd you figure that?"

He giggled and rolled her eyes. "I am _Veela_, 'arry."

"You say that like it's supposed to mean something to me."

"I hit you with a very strong wave of my aura and you didn't even bat an eyelash. It meant that you either had no interest at all in women, or you hadn't yet hit puberty, and I can plainly see that you have done the later."

Harry chuckled and shrugged again. "It doesn't bother you, does it? That I asked you to the ball even though.."

"Of course not. I already suspected, even before tonight."

At this Harry rose his eyebrows questioningly.

"The way you were able to approach me with such ease. Both before zee first task, and then again when you asked me to zee ball. You showed none of the usual reactions to my aura."

"Ah, I see," Harry said nodding his head. "And it really doesn't bother you?"

She laughed at this. "Bother me? Of course not. You were funny and witty and able to hold a conversation. It was far better an evening that I had anticipated it being when we were first told of zee ball."

Harry ducked his head and smiled broadly. "Well, I'm glad you had fun."

Fleur grinned and gave him a simple little nod. She leaned forward then, and Harry's eyes widened in mild surprise as she pressed her lips on his cheek. She pulled back and that mischievous twinkle was in her eye.

"Goodnight, 'arry. Good luck with the second task."

Harry grinned and pushed down the mild blush that had managed to bloom on his cheeks. "Good luck to you too," he said once he'd regained his composure. "Goodnight."

Fleur turned and left the alcove only to disappear through a doorway a moment later.

Harry watched her leave and sighed. He was exhausted, but it _had_ been fun. Much more fun than he had ever expected.

He pushed himself off the wall he'd started to lean against and turned in the opposite direction. A little bug buzzed around his head and he shooed at it with his hand absently before jogging towards the grand staircase, and back up to Gryffindor Tower.

– – –

_He swirled the shot glass of brandy in his small spindly fingers. His first Christmas in a body in more than a decade._

_He snickered at his own thoughts. It was ridiculous for him to have such sentimental thoughts. Besides, his current vessel only barely qualified as a body, although his control over his magic was gradually improving._

_He had spent the day with only Nagini as company. But she made surprisingly good company, so that wasn't exactly a bad thing. He certainly preferred spending the day with her than spending it in the company of __**Wormtail**__. Now that was a decidedly pathetic prospect. Spending the holidays with Wormtail__**. **__He could practically feel the bile try to rise in his throat at the mere thought._

_He sighed and set the small glass down on the table beside the dwarfing armchair he currently resided in. Next to it lay the book he'd been reading. It was an old text. One that Barty had managed to find for him. It was on the theory of ancient blood magic. The subject intrigued him. He theorized that dear Lily Potter had been playing around in darker magics than anyone else had suspected her capable of. _

_He was finally beginning to form a theory as to how the Potter brat had managed to survive that night and why __**his**__ body had been so utterly obliterated. He __**hated**__ not knowing. Any knowledge that escaped him frustrated him beyond words and filled him with the most intense desire to discover it's every secret._

_Aside from the fury he felt at being deprived of the much needed time to complete his work, being trapped in that horrific half-life had been most maddening in how mind numbingly boring it had been. Utterly unable to do anything, least of all, study the nature of magic or improve his skills. His perception of the passage of time had been warped. Years had passed in such a fast, hazy blur, that he hadn't had to suffer the boredom for nearly as much time as had actually passed._

_But at the same time, it had taken so long for him to regain a modicum of power and begin to regain his awareness of the world around him that thirteen whole years had passed since he was last in power. Thirteen years. He had so much work to do. So much ground to recover._

_So much to do, and yet here he sat, unable to do anything._

_Frustrating didn't even begin to cover it._

_He pushed himself up into a sitting position and scooted his undersized body to the edge of the chair before hopping down into and standing position. He felt like a bloody house elf in this damned body._

_Shriveled and disgusting. He yearned for the beautiful masculinity of his former form and wondered if he'd be able to fully recover it. Chances were high that he would once again be physically distorted by the powerful magics he was using to restore himself. That was unfortunate, but certainly not unexpected. It was more important that he regain a fully functional body and return to his tasks than any sense of vanity he may have still possessed. He could not wait for a better option to come alone, so he would have to make due with what he could._

_He could think of several ways to power his resurrection spell that would achieve more ideal results, but the chances of any of those circumstances coming to pass were basically non-existent. So unfathomable were they, that they were not even worth the time to consider them._

_He walked across the study, past Nagini who was curled up and sleeping by the fireplace, and to one of the bookshelves. He reached for a book of Shakespeare's plays, and took it back to his seat. He grumbled bitterly to himself that he had to bother walking to get the book instead of being able to simply summon it. But he needed to reserve his magical strength for when it actually mattered._

_He returned to his seat with an annoying amount of discomfort and opened the book to King Lear. He always felt that it and Julius Caesar were particularly poignant to his situation. He snickered to think of how his followers would react to him reading muggle literature. Such mindless blind sheep._

_Of course he didn't know if that were the case anymore. How many of his followers would have remained faithful to him over the passage of so many years? Would he have to start over from scratch? The thought was entirely disconcerting._

_And frustrating. So many frustrations._

_He sighed, trying to just let it go... for now. He need only wait and he would be able to begin his efforts. He relaxed back into the chair and began to read._

– – –

_KING LEAR_

_Dost thou call me fool, boy?_

_Fool _

_All thy other titles thou hast given away; _

_That thou wast born with._

Harry blinked open his eyes and felt utterly disoriented. He sat up, shaking his head slightly as a minor bout of dizziness echoed through his head. He looked around his bed and onto his small night table, trying to find his book. He must have fallen asleep reading it...

Harry paused and frowned. He hadn't been reading. He'd come to bed after the ball and practically collapsed into the bed from exhaustion. But he _had _been reading... it was Shakespeare. Harry had never actually read any Shakespeare before. He always found the words too confusing and hard to make sense of. It was too hard for him to follow it, but he hadn't had the problem last night. He'd actually gotten quite engrossed in it.

But he hadn't gotten to finish it. He'd...

Harry hadn't been reading the book; Voldemort was. He'd had another... vision. Or whatever they were. He'd been in the Dark Lord's mind again.

Harry's frown deepened slightly, and he sighed heavily. He reached up and ran his fingers through his messy morning-hair. His palm brushed over his scar and his eyes involuntarily fell closed and a shudder shot through him. His lips parted and a shuddering breath escaped from between them. Hesitantly, he let his fingers brush lightly across his scar. Just once, then twice. He traced the lightening bolt shape with his index finger lightly, and then with more pressure. Warm zaps of power coursed through him and he got lost in the sensations and the instinctive act for several minutes before he finally realized what he was doing.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he pulled his hand away and looked at it with mild horror.

_What was wrong with him?_

–

Harry was quiet and distant from his _friends_ for the rest of the day. Hermione was clearly still angry with Ron, and Ron was angry right back. Since they were each giving each other the silent treatment, Harry didn't have any trouble avoiding conversation.

He was distracted and... confused.

An hour after lunch he found himself entering the school library and looking around with a lost, confused expression.

"Do you need help with something, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pince asked as she came up to him.

"I... do... does the school have a copy of any of Shakespeare's plays?"

She looked confused for an instant, and then the expression was replaced with surprise. "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid that we don't."

Harry frowned, feeling legitimately disappointed and wondered if there were _any_ owl-order places he could buy a muggle book from or if he would have to wait until summer when he was abandoned back in the muggle world.

"Oh, well... thanks anyway," he said with a sigh as he turned away and left the library.

His companion had remained silent for the majority of the day, but Harry could still feel his presence in the back of his mind. The presence served to remind him that he wasn't alone, and it was a calming reassurance.

He wandered the halls of the castle for a while, just trying to clear his head. Finally he resigned himself to focusing on some more pressing needs and went back up to Gryffindor Tower to prepare his things for taking his first dose of the accelerant potion that night.

He set his his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, and his satchel with the first dose of the accelerant potion, as well as one dose of each of the other two potions, since he'd need to take them the next morning when he got up, and he figured he'd may as well just have them on hand. His bag also had a change of clothes that he could change in to.

Getting his things ready hadn't taken nearly enough time though and he sighed in frustration and impatience.

He made his way down to the common room, where he found Ron sitting at one of the tables with Dean and Seamus, playing exploding snap. They were being obnoxiously loud and Harry sneered disdainfully at the small gathering.

"Harry?"

Harry spun around and quickly masked his expression as he came face to face with Hermione.

"Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Harry said, giving her what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"Are you sure? You've seemed rather distant today."

"Yeah, 'Mione. I'm fine. Really."

She smiled at him and nodded her head. She began to make her way past him when an idea made itself known in Harry's mind.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I know this may be a long shot, but do you have many muggle books in your collections?"

"Of course."

Harry blinked and was stunned by the power of the hope that bloomed in his chest. _Why was it so damned important to him to get that book?_ He pushed the thought aside and pressed on.

"Do you have any Shakespeare?"

Hermione's eyes lit up and she smiled. "Oh yes. I have his complete works!"

"Seriously? Can I barrow it!" Harry asked excitedly.

To say that Hermione looked shocked, was an understatement. "O-of course! But why?"

"I just... I wanted to read a couple of his plays."

"Which ones?"

"Uh, King Lear and Julius Caesar?"

Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully and made a humming noise in her throat. "Those are both really good. Two of his tragedies."

"Yeah. Do you... er, do you think I could borrow it now?"

"Oh! Of course. I'll be right back," Hermione said with a smile and raced back up the stairs towards the girls' dorm. She was gone for nearly five minutes and Harry felt himself begin to fidget impatiently. Finally she came back down the stairs, clutching a thick book and smiling.

She reached the bottom and handed the book over to a very eager-looking Harry. He took it and looked at it almost reverently. It wasn't an expression Hermione was accustomed to seeing on Harry's face when looking at a book. Looking at a broom, maybe – but a book?

"You've really changed a lot this year, Harry," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Harry looked up at her suddenly and frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked in a rather guarded tone.

"Well... I never really see you playing chess or exploding snap with the others. You don't go flying with Ron or get excited by their debates on Quidditch, and it seems like you're reading a lot more."

Harry shrugged dismissively and turned away from her as he began to make his way over to one of the chairs.

"I don't see it as a bad thing," he said quietly as she followed.

"No..." she said slowly. "It's not. Actually, I'd say you've matured a lot. You're... I guess you see more confident with people. I'm really impressed with how much more seriously you've been taking your studies."

"My priorities changed. I've also learned to see Hogwarts for what it really is."

Hermione waited, expecting him to elaborate, but he didn't, so she prodded. "What do you mean?"

"Well... I think I used to just see it as... well, first and foremost, as an escape from the Dursley's. But secondly it was just _school_. You come here and you get assignments, and you take tests and you turn in your homework. You know – just _school._"

"But you don't see it as that anymore?" Hermione asked with a bit of confusion in her tone.

"No. It's not about grades or tests or homework. It's about _learning. _About gaining knowledge. It's about an opportunity to become better. To become stronger. By not taking it seriously, I was wasting a huge opportunity."

He looked up and saw Hermione looked at him with a mixture of awe, and joy. "Harry! I'm so proud of you!"

Harry ducked his head and barely managed to keep from scowling. Instead his expression became a vague frown.

"Yeah, well... I just... I realized that I was an idiot. I followed behind Ron because it was easier, but also because I thought it was more important to keep my friend than getting O's. If I started doing really good in my studies, I knew I'd alienate him. You know? If we were both doing really well, he'd get all pissy."

Hermione scowled and stuck her nose into the air. "Yes, well, he's an idiot." she spat rather harshly.

Harry laughed. _Really_ laughed.

Hermione startled and looked at him oddly. Harry finally managed to calm himself a minute later. "Sorry, 'Mione. Erm... yeah. Ron _is_ an idiot. But that's part of what made me realize that _I _was being an idiot too, because I was using him as a role model. I was imitating _his_ behavior, and for all the wrong reasons. So I stopped."

"Well I'm proud of you, Harry," she said, giving him a proud smile.

"Er... yeah. Thanks."

Harry finally managed to escape her scrutiny and settled into the chair to read the book. He got lost in it, and was jolted out of his focus by Hermione tapping him on his shoulder and telling him it was time for dinner.

He kept the book with him and read it all through dinner, earning him a bewildered look from Ron. He spent the evening doing the same and was most of the way through Julius Caesar when Ron said he was going to head off to bed soon.

"Oh, hey! Ron?" Harry called out as the ginger began to climb the stairs. He paused and turned back, questioningly.

"I need to work on my potion tomorrow and I'm going to be getting up _really_ early for it. I'll probably be gone before you even wake up, and I'll be down in the dungeons till a while after lunch."

"Ugh, seriously? Blimey, mate! You're working too hard! All this reading and potion brewing. You need to relax some more. You should join us for some exploding snap tomorrow afternoon."

"Yeah... I'll think about it Ron," Harry said with a fake smile.

"You coming up to bed?"

"Yeah, I should," Harry said with a resigned sigh as he closed the book and stood to his feet.

He followed Ron up the stairs and went through the motions of preparing for bed. The rest of his dorm mates were already in bed and asleep, judging by their snoring. Ron climbed into his bed and lowered his hangings. Harry did the same and sat in his bed for about twenty minutes until he was sure that Ron had fallen asleep too.

He slipped out of his bed, pulling the hangings closed and applied a non-verbal sticking charm to them. He pulled on his invisibility cloak, grabbed his bag and the map and silently slipped from the room.

–

Ten minutes later, Harry was walking into Slytherin's study in the Chamber of Secrets. He laid out his supplies on a short table to the side of the chaise lounge and pulled off his robes, leaving him in soft cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt.

He eyed the thick silvery potion warily. He knew this wasn't going to be pleasant. He also knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. He had set his mind to doing this, and he wasn't going to go back now.

He settled himself down onto the chaise and held the potion bottle in front of him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened the bottle. He dumped the contents into his mouth as quickly as the slow thick fluid would allow and swallowed it before his nerves could kick in too strongly.

It tasted... _cold._ It was almost minty. He was surprised by the fact that it didn't taste disgusting, but any thoughts about it's flavor left him the instant the burning began.

His back arched and then his body curled into a tight fetal ball as the waves of pain began to course through him. He screamed out in shock of how intense the agony was, and how quickly it had hit him. He wondered for a moment if he had made some horrible mistake, but knew from the warnings in the book that it was _supposed to_ feel like this. He'd been warned. He couldn't claim ignorance.

He clenched his teeth and keened out terrible whimpering noises as his hands came up and fisted into his hair, pulling it and clawing at his scalp.

Merlin, he was an idiot! How could he possibly endure this for twelve hours? And then do it again once a week for _two bloody months!_

Harry felt the tears beginning to stream down his cheeks and his whole body was twitching and convulsing with the mind shattering spasms of pain. He feared that the pain would drive him mad before morning, if it kept up like this.

_Harry..._

Harry continued to writhe and moan.

_Harry... come to me. Escape... into your mind... _

_...escape the pain... here... with me._

Harry just barely managed to process the words through the fog of burning fire. He tried to calm his breathing, but quickly gave it up as a bad job. Instead he let his practiced instincts guide him, and sunk deep into his mind.

He gasped in relief as all of the pain suddenly left him and he was left standing in the center of his mottled gray mindscape. The black silhouette of his companion was standing there with a nervous tension to the set of his shoulders.

_Are you well, Harry?_

Harry sighed and nodded his head as he made several quick long strides forward. As he approached his companion opened his arms wide, in a welcoming gesture, and wrapped them around Harry, warmly, as the younger wizard finally reached him.

The feeling of _completeness_ filled him as he wrapped his arms around his companion's waist in return and he breathed a sigh of relief.

– –

Harry 'woke' the next morning feeling sore and utterly exhausted. He had stayed 'conscious' in his mindscape the entire twelve hours. Falling asleep meant risking returning his aware mind to his body, and instantly being woken by the searing pain. So he had remained, safely locked away within his own mind. Safe from the pain.

He stood from the chaise on weak, wobbly limbs. His throat felt dry and horse and he suspected it was from screaming all night long. He shakily made his way across the office to a large standing mirror that rest to one side of the room. Harry hissed out a cleaning spell and waved his hand over it, blowing away fifty years worth of dust and cobwebs and then looked at himself.

At first he didn't see much. He reached down to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up over his head in a slow, jerky motion.

His skin was scattered with faded yellow and green bruises, looking to be weeks old, even though they weren't. The book had said that they would be gone by the end of the day she he was pretty confident that no one would get the chance to see them.

Looking bast _that_, Harry could see a notable difference in his body mass already and he grinned. He couldn't see his ribs any more, although he still looked fairly scrawny. He twisted and tried to examine his back. The vertebrae of his back used to be shockingly obvious, but they no longer were. His forearms didn't look nearly as thin anymore either.

Despite the bruising, in general, his skin looked better. Healthier, and it had a better color to it. Not so pale or sickly. His face looked filled out slightly more – his cheeks and eye sockets weren't so sunken anymore; but he hoped the change was subtle enough no one would question it.

In general, the changes were small, but it was progress. And he knew it was better if the changes were slow or else more people would notice them and question him.

Harry walked back over to the chaise and picked his wand up from the table beside it. He cast a few cleansing charms over himself, but knew he would need an actual shower, and soon. He had sweat like mad during his ordeal and he felt decidedly icky. He cast a cleansing charm on the chaise as well and was suddenly grateful that he hadn't lost his bowels during everything. He was almost surprised that he hadn't.

He grimaced. _That_ definitely wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

_E__w._

He changed into the clean robes he'd brought with him and took his morning dose of the nutrition and muscle restructuring potions before packing up his things and leaving the chamber.

– –

The following day Harry asked Hermione if she had any idea where he might take a bath. She looked at him funny and asked him why he wanted to take a _bath_ and why a shower wasn't sufficient.

Harry explained that the egg needed to be opened under water to retrieve the next part of the clue, and she seemed to accept this explanation without pressing for more. She informed him that it was her understanding that the prefect bathrooms had actual _baths_, and he could always ask permission to use one of them.

He heeded her advice and sought out McGonagall right after dinner. She clearly knew about the egg because she wasn't the least bit surprised that he was requesting access to the bath, and gave him the password to the Gryffindor's prefect bathroom.

He collected the egg from his trunk, and grabbed some toiletries and a change of clothes and made his way there.

Ten minutes later and Harry was standing, starkers, at the side of an enormous bubble-filled bathtub, with the golden egg in hand. He slipped down into the glorious warmth and melted into the scented water surrounded by magical bubbles. He allowed himself to just soak in it for a few long moments before he finally sighed and sat up. He set his glasses aside, took a deep breath, and dunked himself under the water.

He unlatched the egg and let it open. The sound of singing voices reverberated through the water instantly.

_"Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this;_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And recover what we took,_

_But past an hour - the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Harry rose back out of the water, sucking in another deep breath and frowning slightly as he mulled over the words in his head. He took another deep breath and went under to listen again.

A few more times and he was positive he had the whole thing memorized. He set the now-closed egg onto the floor beside the tub and relaxed back into the water.

_Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground._

So underwater. Mermaids can't sing above water. In fact, now that he thought about it, he _had_ read in a magical creatures book that mermaid language sounded like nasty screeching to people, above water. He shook his head and sighed, annoyed that none of this stuff occurred to him _before_. There were mermaids in the black lake, right?

_An hour long you'll have to look_

That was probably the biggest complication, right there. So he had to be able to stay under water for a _whole hour_, and he had to find something while doing it. So not just being able to breath underwater, but also being able to swim and navigate. He would need to be able to see better so that he could actually _find_ the whatever-it-was – and it wasn't called the _black lake_ for nothing. It was deep, and it was dark.

So; underwater breathing. Some sort of swimming aid. Something to aid his sight...

And they were going to take something from him.

_Something that you'll sorely miss._

What could they take? His invisibility cloak? That would certainly be difficult to find. Especially under water. He sure as hell hoped that, that wouldn't be the case. There wasn't too much that they _could_ take from him that he would 'sorely miss'. The cloak, the map, and his wand. Everything else could be easily replaced.

So aside from the other things he needed to look up, it would probably also be useful to research some different kinds of tracking spells that he could use under water.

With that decided, Harry took advantage of his remaining time in the bath and relaxed until all of the bubbles had disappeared.

– –


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Harry spent some time in the library the next day looking for anything that could be useful in dealing with the task. It was difficult to ask Hermione for help since he'd given her the impression that he already had the task sort of worked out, and the potions he'd been brewing were for it.

If he admitted that he'd _fibbed_ a bit, she would want to know what those potions had actually been for, and he wasn't willing to tell her that.

He was getting frustrated with the library rather quickly – especially with all the people who were there. It was still the Christmas hols for Merlin's sake! Why were there so ruddy many students hanging around the library? Stupid ball. Harry actually missed the quiet that would have been granted him during the holiday under normal circumstances. Thanks to the ball, almost every student forth year and up had stayed behind.

It was at that point that he recalled all of the books down in Slytherin's study in the chamber. Well, if nothing else, at least he wouldn't have to deal with any other students while searching _those_ books.

Harry went up to Gryffindor Tower, grabbed his cloak, map, and his bag and headed back down the stairs. Ron reminded him about that offer for a game of exploding snap, but Harry declined, saying he needed to do some work for the task and quickly left.

Ten minutes later, Harry was slipping into Slytherin's study and setting down his bag.

Harry sat down on the chaise lounge and looked out over the room of books. Most of them were... well, _old._ Obviously. He was afraid to actually touch some of them just because they looked like the slightest bit of manhandling and they would crumble apart. They _were_ a thousand years old, after all.

Some, however, were in much better condition than others. He could feel fragmented bits of magic floating through the room and realized that it felt sort of reminiscent of a preservation charm. It was weakened though, and had failed in certain sections of the room.

He had also noted that there was a neatly stacked pile of books along one side of the room, that were all in much better condition than any of the others. They also reeked of much more recent magic than the rest did.

Harry theorized that these were books that Riddle had restored or repaired during his time as a student at Hogwarts. He could see why, upon closer examination, since most of those books looked incredibly interesting.

Harry sighed heavily and wondered if he could find anything to help him with the task here. Surely, in this treasure trove of knowledge, he would find _something _useful.

He stood up and walked over to the stack of books that Riddle had restored. He crouched down and began to read through the titles.

_Search spell..._

His companion's voice whispered through his head and Harry paused.

"_What?"_

_There is a spell... to search for... subject matter in books. Much... faster._

"_Seriously? Why didn't you mention this earlier in the library?"_

…

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. _ "Alright, what is it?"_

_Invenio... wand movement isss... an S shape. Incant... Invenio... and then the word... or phrasse... you are searching for._

Harry nodded his head and grinned widely. He decided to test it out on something first so he picked up the first book in front of him, looked at the title, _Tip-Toeing Through the Mind of the Unaware_ by Clair Videre. His brows rose as his interest was peaked.

He set the book down on the floor beside him and took out his wand. He called the magics from deep inside him and hummed in pleasure at the feel of it swirling around him so easily. He pointed his wand at the book, made an _S_ movement and said "_Invinio Mind._"

A swirly yellow light came from the tip of his wand and began to dance around the book. The word _Mind_ on the cover glowed yellow for a moment, and then the whole book began to glow lightly. It flipped open suddenly and the pages began to flip rapidly from the front all the way through the back. When it finished, he noticed quite a lot of pages seemed to be glowing yellow now, apparently marking that the word _mind_ had been found there. He realized that a book about mind magic would probably use the word mind a lot in it, so it made sense.

He grinned at his easy success and did a quick _finite_ and the glowing disappeared. He was about to put the book back when he paused, grinned, and set it over by his bag instead.

He'd been doing mind searching on pure instinct. He wondered what he would learn about it from a book actually written on the subject. He still didn't even know if there was a name for what he was doing, and was interested to see what he could learn in a more structured setting than his own blind attempts at figuring his own way through it.

He turned back to the stack of books and tried to think of a good keyword or phrase to search. He figured the matter of the water was probably the most pressing to start with. Swimming, sight, and breathing.

He frowned.

"_Hey, does it have to be an exact quote for it to find it in the book, or can I do a search for multiple concepts and have it come back with 'close' matches?"_

_It will... return close matches to concepts... if that isss what you desire._

Harry grinned and thanked his companion. He raised his wand to the books, did an S shaped movement and said _"Invenio __swimming, breathing, water_."

The yellow swirl exited his wand again and began to dance around the books. It continued it's dance for quite a while as it searched through the dozens of books. Harry sat back and waited, taking a moment to look around the cluttered office. He really ought to try cleaning the place up a bit...

Finally he felt the magic finish and looked over the stacks. There were a number of books highlighted in yellow and he began to collect each one into his arms.

He brought the small pile over to the table beside the chaise and set them down. He pulled the first one off the pile and sat back and got comfortable.

_The Serpentine Transformations of the Parselmage_

_by Apala Denisonia_

One of Harry's eyebrows rose as he looked at it curiously. It was in impressive condition. In fact, it was obviously not old enough to have been placed here by Slytherin. He checked the front cover and saw that it was only printed about 100 years ago.

_It must have been a book Riddle left here._ Harry thought to himself.

He opened the book to the section his search spell had identified with the most glowing yellow and began to read. It was describing the Sea Serpent form and it's benefits in aiding in swimming. Breathing air was still necessary, because reptiles do not have gills, but in the form, one could hold their breath for twenty minutes between breaths. It said that if an extended stay underwater was necessary, that a bubble-head charm could be used. Harry paused and looked down at the book in mild confusion. It was obvious that he was missing something important and decided to go back to the introduction of the book instead.

"_Under normal circumstances, human to animal transfiguration is a very dangerous piece of magic to attempt. When transfigured into an animal, the wizard takes on the mind and mental capacity of that animal, and as such, looses the ability to wield magic. Any wizard that completely transfigures themselves into an animal will be left unable to transfigure themselves back._

_Another wizard can reverse the spell for them, but without that backup, they could end up being trapped that way, indefinitely._

_An animagus is a wizard who possesses the innate ability to transform themselves into one specific animal form, that is determined mostly by their personality. _

_When an animagus is transformed, they retain their human mental capacity, as well as their ability to perform the magic necessary to return them to their normal human form. The animagus transformation is just that – a transformation. Not a transfiguration._

_The animagus transformation has a few key downsides though. First and foremost, it takes an average wizard at least two years to master the skill – assuming that they are even capable of it in the first place. Second is the fact that the wizard is not able to decide what animal form they will take. And third, they can only ever assume that one form their entire lives. There is no opportunity to learn additional animal forms, so if the animal form they assume is not a desirable or advantageous one, they will have wasted two years of study for nothing._

_It is established fact that wizards who possess the skill in parseltongue are descendants from wizards who interbred with one of the humanoid-serpent races – most often the Naga from India, but in some instances, the Yuan-ti of eastern Asia. Both the Naga and the Yuan-ti possessed the natural ability to transform themselves into humans, and used this skill in their exploits of seducing and abusing gullible humans. _

_Some, however, willing took a human as a mate, and it is the descendants of their offspring that possess the ability to use and manipulate the ancient parselmagics._

_Because of this descent from magical creature blood, many wizards who have inherited the ability to speak parseltongue and perform parselmagic, also possess the ability to transform themselves into various serpent forms._

_It is not a transfiguration, but a transformation, like the animagus transformation. Unlike the animagus transformation, this skill does not limit the wizard to a single form. Multiple forms can be learned through practice and dedication._

_An additional benefit over the animagus transformation is that if you are capable of this skill, it is unlikely to take longer than two-to-three months of practice to perform a complete transformation for the first time. Each additional form will be harder to assume and will take additional time and practice to master._

_Most parselmages have one or two serpentine forms that they prefer and master, but are able of taking on one or two more for other specific needs. _

_The following chapters detail some of the most common forms identified in parselmages and the best ways to achieve those forms through practice and meditation."_

Harry paused and looked down at the book in his hands. Could _he_ possibly perform any of these transformations? He sort of doubted it, since he wasn't biologically descended from 'parselmages'. He'd gained his ability from Voldemort. If the ability to do this transformation thing was because they descended from er... nagas, or something, he doubted he would have gained that too. But then again, it was a magical transformation, so who knew?

It was worth investigating, at least. He was still a little confused about the whole transforming into a sea serpent thing. Did that mean he would actually turn into a tiny snake? It could be useful... He could probably swim really fast as a little snake, but could a tiny reptilian body stand the cold of the black lake for an hour? And what about breathing? He would have to look up this bubble-head charm it had mentioned. And if he did this in the tournament, would the Ministry think he was an animagus and make him register? Would he be punished for not being registered already? His understanding was that you didn't have to register as an animagus until you'd reached 17, so maybe he would be able to slip by. Preferable, he would do this without anyone actually realizing he'd done it.

He went back to the chapter on the sea serpent form to read up on it's specific characteristics to see if it would actually be suitable for what he needed. He still had a small pile of books to look through, so if this didn't pan out, he could check the others.

Thirty minutes later he had finished the chapter, and had at least a fair number of his questions answered.

He would _not _and up as a 'tiny' snake, if he did this. In fact, he would probably be a _very_ _large _snake. His body mass would be shifted into the form of a serpent, so as much mass as he had as a human, he would still have as a snake, just stretched out over the elongated serpentine form.

It said that in that form, he would be able to swim incredibly fast. Sea serpents were extremely agile and fast in water, and their bodies were literally a long tube of muscle, making them very dangerous to try and go up against. The sea serpent also had a secondary eyelid that was see-through, so he could easily open his eyes under water without irritation. Also, they apparently had really good night vision. In addition to all this, he would also have _poisonous venom_ in that form! He would be down-right deadly!

On the down-side, he _would_ be cold blooded, and the water temperature of the black lake would be undeniably unpleasant, but a warming spell cast before the transformation could help stave off the cold during the actual task.

He wouldn't be able to cast any traditional wizard magic while in his serpent form, since he couldn't actually speak or wield a wand, however he would still be able to cast some parselmagic.

It sounded like the best strategy for an extended stay underwater would be to cast this bubble-head charm over his nose and mouth and cast a full-body warming charm while still human, jump into the water, and then transform once he'd gone deep enough that people wouldn't be able to see him. Of course, this would only work assuming that there wouldn't be some sort of magical observation or surveillance system set up so that those in attendance could watch the champions under water.

He almost expected that Dumbledore _would_ have come up with some way to watch them – how else would they be able to tell if someone was in dire trouble and in need of help?

Still, the transformation seemed like a viable option for his task. Even if he did end up having to register as an animagus. And if he got in 'trouble' for being unregistered, he could just point out that it wasn't actually an animagus transformation, and hopefully get off on that technicality.

This was. Of course assuming he learned the transformation before mid February when the next task would take place. Oh, and assuming he was even able to do it at all... Which part of him still seriously doubted.

Harry went to the first chapter and began to read. It described a rather complicated sounding parselmagic chant that would dig deep into your parselmagic core and tell you if you were even capable of the transformation.

He read it through a few times, and his companion spoke up a few times to explain concepts that confused Harry. Finally he stood up and walked to the center of the room. He closed his eyes and focused on the image of a serpent in his mind. He began to quietly hiss a rhythmic chant of sorts and felt the parselmagic begin to swirl and twist around him. He grabbed onto that magic and pulled more of it to the surface than he had ever needed to before.

It was electric and intoxicating. Pulling out his normal magic, and pulling out his parselmagic was so different, but if he were asked to explain why, he couldn't. His parselmagic just felt so... _intoxicating_ somehow. It made him feel giddy.

As he continued pulling out more and more of his parselmagic, his head felt more and more light and fuzzy. His lids grew heavy and his mouth spread into an odd sort of grin. Strange hissed giggles escaped his lips and morphed into a loud cackle. The magic reached a tremendous peak before suddenly leaving him in a great explosion of dark energy. He gasped in shock and his knees gave out. The force of it caused him to fall down and left him bent over, supporting himself with his palms flat on the cold stone floor. He stayed there, motionless for a long moment, panting heavily, and shaking from the shock his body had just experienced.

He opened his eyes and saw he was glowing lightly. It was a subtle green pulse, and it was quickly fading. He grinned widely.

He was able to perform the transformation.

He stayed there for a few more minutes, before he felt that enough strength had returned to allow him to stand to his feet. His limbs still felt like jelly, but he was able to get to the chaise and sit down. He weakly pulled the book onto his lap and began to read again. He wanted this to work. He _would_ make it work. And even if he couldn't get it to work in time for the task... it just sounded to fascinating not to learn it anyway.

– –

A week had passed since Harry had come up with the parselmage transformation option, and he'd been spending some time down in the chamber each day since, practicing, meditating, and searching the few parselmagic books contained down there for useful spells.

"Where do you keep _going_, Harry?" Ron whined as Harry came in through the portrait hole. "The holiday is almost over and I've hardly seen you at all!"

It was now Saturday again, and it was just after one in the afternoon. Harry had taken his second dose of the accelerant potion the night before and he was currently sore and exhausted. He wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with Ron Weasley. Especially a _whining_ Ron Weasley.

Harry clenched his jaw and closed his eyes trying desperately to reign in his temper and not snap at Ron. It wouldn't do for him to lash out at the other boy. It would only raise questions. Increase suspicions. And he did not need _more_ people watching him and wondering about him. Things had actually quieted down a bit lately and he was enjoying the calm.

He took a couple deep breaths and opened his eyes. Ron was looking at him funny.

"Look, Ron, I've been _busy._ I'm working on my strategy for the second task and it's taking a lot of work. That's all."

"You aren't seriously still brewing potions, are you!" Ron exclaimed, incredulously.

"No, actually, I finished that."

Ron blinked but then his face grew bright. "So you're done!"

Harry signed and reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm done with the _potions_, yes. But that was only the first step, Ron. I've still got to learn some spells and it's taking a lot of practice."

Ron's face fell. "Oh."

"Do you need any help?" Hermione's voice came in and Harry turned to see her sitting at one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace.

"Nah, Hermione. I've got it covered."

"Are you sure? I mean... we could help you practice or something," she offered, looking hopeful.

Harry scrunched up his face, trying to think of anything he was working on that they could actually help with.

He'd already mastered the warming charm and the bubble-head charm. They'd been _easy._ Everything that was left at this part was all parselmagic.

There _was_ still the locating charms though.

He'd done another 'word search' spell down in Salazar's study for 'location spell' and 'parselmagic' and manged to find a parseltongue book on a variety of general spells – including two different location spells. He had only done this the day before, so he hadn't yet gotten around to testing out either.

"Well..." he began slowly, "I need to practice some locator charms."

"Locator charms?" Hermione said, perking up and looking at him with interest. "So... can you tell us what exactly the task is going to be? Or... are you not supposed to say? I have to admit, Harry, I've been absolutely _dying_ of curiosity."

"Er, yeah... Well, I think it's alright for me to say. No one has told me not to. Basically, for the task I've got to find something. I still don't know _what_ it will be though. Apparently they're going to steal something from me and hide it at the bottom of the lake. I'll have one hour to find it, and if I _don't_ find it, I'll never get it back."

Hermione and Ron both gave him horrified looks. Ron spoke first.

"But there's... _things_ in the lake! What about the giant squid?"

Harry coughed out a humorless laugh. "Yes Ron, I'm aware of that."

"But the lake is _huge!_ And it's incredibly deep! How on earth will you ever hold your breath long enough to search it? You'll need some sort of underwater breathing spell or something. Oh, what ever are you going to _do_ Harry?" Hermione said with a utterly stricken expression.

"I'm working on a few things... I've already got the water breathing thing worked out. As for surviving the squid, the grindylows, and the mer-people, I've got a primary strategy I'm aiming for, but I've also got a back-up plan in case I can't get the first one worked out in time. Anyway, either way I go, I still want to work out these locator spells, and you two could probably help with that."

"How so?" Hermione asked, sitting at attention and taking on her 'serious' face.

"Well... you could just... _take_ something from me, and I'll try to find it. For all I know, they aren't even going to tell me_ what_ they take from me, so I may go into it totally blind. I want to try it both ways. Knowing what I'm looking for, and not knowing."

"You want to do this now?" Ron said, looking eager.

Harry grimaced. "Ugh, no... sorry guys, but I'm _exhausted. _I was actually planning on heading up to bed and taking a nap."

"Whut!" Ron exclaimed. "But it's only one in the afternoon!"

"I've been up since _really early_ Ron, and I've been er... working on some really strenuous things since then, so I'm really wiped out."

"Okay," Ron said, looking glum.

"Well you'd better go get some rest then," Hermione said, instead of asking the questions that were clearly on the tip of her tongue.

She looked like she _desperately_ wanted to ask Harry what he'd been up to to get so exhausted. The fact that he'd finally given up some details about the tournament, after refusing to tell them a single thing before then, had only wet her appetite, and now she was clearly hungry for more. He was surprised she refrained from badgering him.

"Thanks," he said, smiling in relief.

"We can work on that locator thing tomorrow," Ron said as Harry turned and headed towards the stairs.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said as he waved dismissively over his shoulder and began to climb the stairs.

– –

"_Come, Wormtail," he said while beckoning forward with his tiny, long-fingered hand. The short pudgy man was trembling and cowering in the back of the room. He squeaked with startled surprise and scurried over to him._

"_Yes, my Lord?" Wormtail sad as he kneeled and bowed his head._

"_Your arm, Wormtail," he commanded._

_Wormtail's head rose the slightest bit and he looked up through his long, thinning hair and trembled. Slowly, Wormtail rose his left arm, baring his forearm and pulling back the sleeve of his robe._

_He reached to the short table beside the chair he rested in and grasped his wand in hand. He enjoyed the warm flow of magic he felt coursing through it and into his hand. His connection to his magic was strengthening with each passing day. It was a reminder to him that it was only a matter of time... just a matter of time..._

_He took the wand and pressed it __**hard**__ into his servants arm. He grinned wickedly as he saw the simpering little rat flinch in apparent pain. _

_He called forth some of his magical wells and smiled wickedly when it came to him with much more ease than it had in far too long. It felt glorious and filled him with anxious anticipation for what was to come. _

_He collected the magic together and forced it through his wand and into the mark. The faded mark began to darken and throb with the sudden influx of magic. Wormtail whimpered quietly as the pain involved with being the vessel for the magic. It only made him smirk with increased glee._

_This was the third time he had done this, but it would be the first time that it would truly make a noticeable difference with his followers. They would begin to __**feel**__ it now._

_Before he was just reestablishing the connection. Now they would begin to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that their Lord was returning. Each time he repeated this, the mark would grow stronger, and the compulsion to return to him, when called upon, would grow with it. _

_Ideally, this would guarantee that they would be ready when he finally did call them to return to his side. He didn't want them to have any excuse for dallying. They couldn't claim that they simply did not expect to be called upon, because it had been so very many years since his fall. There was ample warning, and punishment for an untimely return would be tremendous._

_He pulled his wand back, with a satisfied smirk gracing his lipless features. Wormtail whimpered and hesitantly lowered his arm._

"_Very good, Wormtail," he said in a quiet hiss. "Bring me the chair."_

"_Yes my Lord," Wormtail said as he bowed his head again and quickly scurried out of the room. He returned a minute later with a carved mahogany chair without any legs, that was levitating in mid-air. The chair was small in size, as if it were made for a young child, and the arms of it were intricately carved to look like snakes, curled around and then coming up along the top of the back rest. _

_He made a motion with his hand and gave Wormtail an expectant look. The cowering wizard hurried over and lifted him up off the armchair and placed him into the floating wooden chair._

"_The books have been placed in the library?" he asked._

"_Yes, my Lord. I unpacked the crates this morning, just like you ordered it."_

"_Good. Leave me."_

"_Y-yes, my Lord."_

_Wormtail bowed again and quickly raced from the room while subconsciously holding his left forearm to his chest; clearly thankful to be dismissed. He shifted his ridiculously undersized body in the stiff wooden chair. He really needed to add some cushions to it. No matter. He would deal with it later._

_He waved his hand and the chair began to move smoothly forward. He directed it out of the room and down the hall, into the library. Several crates lined the walls. He knew they contained the old tattered muggle books that used to occupy the shelves. Taking their place in the bookshelves were a collection of books he had recovered from one of his old warded storehouses. He had been thrilled to discover that it had gone undiscovered during his absence, and left entirely in tact. Sending Wormtail, of all people, to recover them had been annoying, but even Pettigrew wasn't incompetent enough to screw that up._

_He guided the chair past the rows of books, examining the titles on the spines and reacquainting himself with the collection of ancient tomes._

_He sighed happily. It was such a relief to have recovered these. His books were like an extension of himself. He hated to be so forcefully separated from his knowledge base. He would always miss the books he had unfortunately been forced to leave back at the school. But someday – hopefully someday soon – he would gain control over the school and be able to go and fetch them from the chamber. But still, these books were a fantastic find, even if they weren't quite a precious as the ones left behind at the school._

_He reached out and ran his fingers over the old leather and breathed in a deep breath. Yes. He missed this..._

– –

Harry opened his eyes, sighed, and smiled. It was a strange sort of contentment. An odd feeling. The feeling from having something you treasured returned to you, after having thought it lost.

Or... having something that _he_ treasured, returned to _him._ He amended.

But still, it had felt like...

Harry shook his head. He had lay in bed with his eyes closed, yet actually still awake, for the last twenty minutes. He had been mulling over his vision from the previous night. It was... _strange_ seeing this side of Voldemort. The man had such an appreciation for knowledge. It was strange, in an odd way, to have his suspicions about Tom Riddle and the chamber be confirmed. He had known, on an academic level, that Riddle had been down there. Probably spent loads of time down there.

That Riddle had read those same books that Harry was reading. That he had placed some of them there, himself. It was... interesting to feel the same _affection _for those books while in Voldemort's mind, that Harry himself felt for them. Voldemort saw no distinction between what he learned. Knowledge was power, and it was all worthy of his attention.

The strangest revelation from the previous nights vision had, however, happened towards the _end_. It was early in the morning and Wormtail had returned from a trip to the local muggle market – apparently, where ever the manor house Voldemort was living in was, it was near some muggle village. Wormtail had brought a few muggle publications and the newspaper back with him on Voldemort's order. This was apparently a _regular thing _as Voldemort had immediately set down what he was busying himself with and had begun to read the muggle paper. He had told Wormtail to try and acquire some more international publications in the future as well.

Voldemort hated having been out of the loop for so long. The wizarding world had basically sat still during that time, since the wizarding world hardly ever changed or progressed – so set in their ways, wizards were – but the muggles had changed so much, so fast. Especially the last fifteen years. Voldemort felt he needed to reacquaint himself with the technologies and advancements of the muggles. He needed to be prepared.

The thing that left Harry the most... _surprised_ was the total lack of thoughts about muggle inferiority. Wasn't that supposed to be Voldemort's thing? The belief that muggles were no better than stupid animals? Filthy, stupid, weak, muggles?

But he hadn't thought that. Harry was surprised to find the man held a surprising amount of respect for their capabilities. But he did consider them a serious threat. He thought them _dangerous_. Voldemort kept thinking about the _work_ he needed to complete. About his _task_. It left Harry confused and feeling like he was missing some bigger-picture thing.

Harry sighed and shook his head. It was like all of the foundational beliefs he had gained over the previous three years had been based on lies, and misinformation. Actually being inside Voldemort's head had shown something Harry had never expected to see.

Voldemort was just... a person.

Albeit, a tremendously _powerful_ person, with a hunger for ultimate knowledge and control. But still a _person._ He had always imagined Voldemort as some sort of blood-thirsty monster, incapable of rational thought, who passed his days by torturing people, and planning new and more creative ways to kill muggles. Was any of that true?

And his power... Harry had felt the power that coursed through him when he touched his wand to Wormtail's mark and it had been utterly inebriating. It was dark, and delicious... and that had only been a small fraction of his power!

Harry closed his eyes at the memory of what it had felt like to experience that magic, first hand. Air escaped his lungs in a heavy shuddering breath and he smiled. The memory sent a pleasant curling in his stomach that he didn't want to let go of.

A moment later he sighed again and shook himself out of his growing stupor. It wasn't good to dwell on such things. It wasn't... _healthy_.

Harry spent the majority of the morning in the chamber practicing the meditative breathing practice, and the magical focusing techniques. He was beginning to feel the magic coiling in his stomach. His skin tingled with the transformation magic, but nothing had actually happened yet. Still, he was optimistic. It was January 3rd, and the next task wasn't until February 24th. He had a gameplan, and he had time.

He left the chamber and returned to the school for lunch. Ron asked Harry if he wanted to start working on that locator charm, but Harry declined, telling both he and Hermione that he was in the middle of some of his other preparations and wanted to get back to it right away.

Ron was clearly disappointed, and scowled but didn't protest any further.

Harry left the great hall and slipped behind a tapestry into a hidden corridor and pulled the map and cloak out of his bag. He tapped the map, activating it and checked the 2nd floor corridor to make sure the coast was clear so he could re-enter the chamber when he saw Karkaroff's name moving along a corridor in the dungeons towards Snape's office.

Harry frowned and his mind wandered back to the warning from Sirius to keep his eyes open, from last term. Karkaroff was a former Death Eater, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what he might be doing going to speak to Snape.

He made the decision quickly and hurried down the corridor towards the stairs and down into the dungeon.

He pulled out his wand as he got closer and cast a silencing charm over himself. He checked the map again and saw that the two of them were inside Snape's office now. He tapped the map with his wand, ending the spell and put it into his pocket. He hurried down the corridor and stood outside the closed door, pressing his ear to it and trying to listen in.

The voices were too muffled to make out and Harry grumbled in frustration. He wished he knew a spell for eavesdropping through doors, or to increase his hearing, but nothing came to mind.

The voices beyond the door became elevated and suddenly the door flew open. Harry only just barely managed to fly away from the open doorway and press himself against the wall beside it.

"Out!" Snape growled.

"But Severus! You must listen!"

"I must do _nothing!"_ Snape hissed in a deadly whisper.

Harry peered around the corner and saw that Karkaroff was holding the left sleeve of his robes up and exposing his forearm to Snape.

"You know what it means, Severus! You must feel it too!"

"Yes of course I have _felt it._ And I know _exactly_ what it means. I am no fool, Igor!"

"Dumbledore protects you, Severus. I have no such luxury! Vhen our Lord returns he vill crucify me!"

"That is you're problem, _not mine!"_

"But Severus! You must –"

"_NO!_ Now _get out!"_

Karkaroff stood straighter and let his arm fall to his side. He was scowling at Snape, but nodded his head.

"Fine then. But this is not over," Karkaroff said harshly before turning and storming out of the office and down the long dungeon corridor.

Snape stood in the doorway for a long minute before growling angrily, marching back inside and slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry stood there for another minute, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

Karkaroff was a Death Eater. He knew that. Although, apparently, he didn't think that Voldemort would be particularly pleased with him, so maybe he had done something during the last decade that the Dark Lord would be angry about.

It made it rather unlikely that Karkaroff was the Death Eater contact within the school that had put Harry's name in the goblet of fire, though.

But what was really cause for contemplation was the fact that Karkaroff had gone to _Snape._ He had shown _Snape_ his mark. This had to have been about what Voldemort did the previous night with Wormtail's mark. Voldemort had pushed his magic through all of the marks to begin activating them. Karkaroff had felt this and had panicked. But Snape said that he had felt it too. That _he knew too_. And Karkaroff had come to Snape.

_Was Snape a Death Eater!_

Did that mean that Snape could have been the one who put Harry's name in the cup?

Harry pushed himself off the wall and began to quickly make his way back towards the second floor. He entered Myrtle's bathroom, walked directly to the sink, and hissed the open command. A few minutes later and he was hissing his way into Slytherin's study, his mind still racing.

Instead of going to the chaise, like he usually did, he went over to Slytherin's desk and set his bag on top. He pulled out some parchment, quill and ink, and sat in the chair.

He sat, staring at the blank page for a few long minutes as he tried to make some order of his thoughts.

Finally he put quill to parchment and began to compose a letter to Sirius. It had been nearly a month since he had last written to his Godfather, and over two months since he had last spoken with him, when he had fire called at the start of November.

Sirius had known that Karkaroff was a Death Eater. Maybe he would know something about Snape too. At the very least, he could act as a sounding board for Harry's theories.

He repeated everything he could recall of the brief bit of conversation he had overheard between Karkaroff and Snape and told Sirius how Karkaroff had been showing Snape his dark mark.

Harry didn't mention his visions to Sirius, even though at the start of term, Sirius had asked him to let him know if he was still having them. He didn't want to share them. They felt sort of... private. Plus he doubted he could properly explain to anyone else what it was like for him to experience them. How when he had a vision of Voldemort, it was as if he _was_ Voldemort. He could only imagine how _that_ would be received by anyone else.

No. He couldn't tell anyone about his visions. But he still wanted Sirius's opinion on the Snape-Karkaroff encounter. Hopefully it wouldn't take another month for his godfather to actually respond.

– –

The next day was the start of second term. Harry had stayed up late reading, and then had spent another hour laying in bed, buried deep in his mindscape with his companion. Because of this, he had slept in a bit later than he would usually allow himself and was forced to rush through his morning routine, gulp down his two potions, and race down to breakfast.

He jogged down to the Great Hall and briskly walked through the doors. The second he stepped through the doors the room fell eerily quiet. Harry instantly slowed in his stride and looked around the room cautiously. An alarmingly large number of eyes were trained on him. A substantial quantity of snickering began to emanate from the Slytherin table.

_Oh, now what?_ He grumbled bitterly as he resumed his rough strides to the Gryffindor table. He found Ron and Hermione and walked to them. Hermione was holding the Daily Prophet in her hands and looking devastated. Ron was looking at Harry with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

A quick glance around the room and Harry was able to note that a _lot_ of people were holding the Daily Prophet in their hands.

_This can't be good..._

He sat down next to Hermione, gave a resigned sigh, and reached out his hand, silently asking for her to hand over the paper.

"Harry –" she began to say in weak protest, but he shot her a look that booked no discussion. She sighed heavily, nodded her head, and handed over the paper.

Harry unfolded it and laid it out in front of him. What he saw there, in big bold letters, printed across the front page, was definitely _not something_ he had been expecting.

_THE BOY WHO LIVED TO BE GAY?_

By Rita Skeeter

Harry closed his eyes. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he lowered his head slightly.

"Harry?" Hermione asked in a quiet, careful voice.

She leaned in closer when she got no response. "Harry? It's... it's not so bad..." She paused when she thought she heard something. His shoulders jerked and shook for a moment and she feared he might be about to burst into sobs! She leaned in even closer and turned her head to the side, trying to get a look at his bowed head.

Her brow furrowed in confusion when she heard what sounded like a... _chuckle?_

Harry snorted and the damn broke. He began to chuckle harder and louder before his held fell back and he erupted in laughter. His whole body shook with the force of his laugh and it lasted for a few solid minutes before he had finally calmed himself down enough that only the occasional snort, or hiccoughed-chuckle escaped him.

"Er... mate? You alright?" Ron asked hesitantly, apparently worried that Harry might of gone totally barmy. Harry nodded his head and let out the sort of sigh you give when you've just had a good laugh. Which he had, so it was appropriate.

"Well you're taking it loads better than I expected," Ron observed. "So it's just rubbish, right? That damned Skeeter woman will print anything!"

Harry shook his head, still calming from his laugh. "No Ron. It's true," he said as he raised his head and gave the ginger an amused smile.

Ron's face went stark pale. Harry heard several of the people sitting within hearing range actually _gasp_. He rolled his eyes.

"Although, I wonder how the ruddy hell she found out," Harry said as he sat up straight and smoothed the paper out again. He glanced over to Hermione, and marginally narrowed his eyes. "You didn't let it slip, did you?"

She gasped and looked horribly offended. "Of course not! Harry, I would never had told anyone!"

Harry grinned and nodded his head. "Yeah, I know. Still had to ask."

"Whoa... wait. Wait, Harry... what..." Ron was spluttering now and looking, frantically, back and forth between Harry and Hermione. "You're...? But what about Fleur! And _you_! You knew?" he exclaimed, pointing at Hermione, accusingly.

"Ron, did you even _read_ the article!" Hermione asked in exasperation.

"I skimmed it!" he said defensively. "Besides, I assumed it was just more of Skeeter's rubbish!"

"Fleur _knew_. Or, at least, she suspected before hand, and had it figured out by the end of the ball," Harry said with a one-shouldered shrug as he reached over and began to scoop some scrambled eggs onto his plate. He was pointedly ignoring the dozens of sets of eyes still locked on him intently, and the roar of hushed whispers.

_Let them stare. Stupid gawking idiots._

"She knew?" Hermione gasped. "You don't think..."

Harry shrugged. "If it wasn't you, it had to be her. But I really didn't expect this."

"Do you think that maybe she was bitter? That you took her to the dance, even though you weren't really interested?" Hermione asked.

"It really doesn't add up... I mean, she was really good about it after the dance when we talked. She seemed _thankful_. Said she had a great time. I mean, if she'd gone with a straight bloke, her aura would have been effecting him all night long, and all he would have done is drool on her and tried to grope her. She said she was grateful for being able to attend the dance with someone capable of coherent conversation. It really doesn't make sense that she would have gone to Skeeter."

Hermione made a noise in her throat and looked thoughtful.

"Harry..." Ron croaked weakly and Harry looked back up at the red-head sitting opposite him at the table. "You're... you're seriously _gay_?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes Ron. I'm gay."

He heard another rush of whispers, echo through the hall as word spread like fiendfyre. Harry shook his head and chuckled weakly before turning back to his plate and stuffing another bite of food in his mouth.

A moment passed where Ron's face was a mask of disbelief and shock, finally his gaze settled on Hermione. "And you knew!" he said accusingly.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Ron. I knew."

"Why? How?"

"Harry told me," she said in a hushed voice as she glanced around the crowded room that was still intently watching their every move.

"When?" Ron shrieked slightly, and his voice cracked.

"Um... the last week of November, I think. It really doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!"

"Ron, don't make a scene!" Hermione reprimanded with a harsh hiss.

"Why didn't you tell _me?"_ Ron asked, accusingly again, as he turned to Harry this time.

Harry sighed and let his fork fall to his plate. "It didn't come up. I also didn't see how it should matter."

"Why did you ask Fleur to the dance if you don't even fancy her?"

Harry blinked. "What does it matter if I asked Fleur to the dance?"

"Well, someone else could have asked her!"

"Who? _You_?" Harry responded, leaning back in his chair and giving the ginger a pointed look.

"Yeah, maybe!" Ron said defensively, sitting up more in his seat.

"Do you realize that one of the biggest reasons she said yes to my invitation is _because I'm gay?_"

"What sense does that make?" Ron exclaimed.

Harry let his hand hit his forehead and groaned in frustration. He let his hand fall back down and resigned himself to actually having this conversation.

"Since I don't fancy girls, I'm immune to her veela aura. _That's why._ Try empathizing with Fleur for a minute. No matter where she goes, guys follow her. They fall over each other to be near her. They practically worship the ground she walks on, and the second any of them open their mouths, they sound like blathering idiots because their ability to think properly is being inhibited by their hormones, which are being triggered into overdrive by her veela aura.

"And if guys aren't acting like brainless morons around her, they're trying to grope her, and assault her. By going with me, she didn't have to deal with any of that. That's why it makes sense."

Ron scowled back angrily, folded his arms over his chest and proceeded to pout like a child. Harry almost laughed, but he knew that would only make Ron more mad.

Harry picked his fork back up and resumed eating while he looked down at the paper and began to actually read the article.

He frowned as he came across a paragraph that made reference to some of the conversation that he, Fleur, Krum, and Hermione had, had while sitting at a table together at the dance.

Harry leaned back and pointed at it while turning to Hermione. "How do you suppose she got this?"

Hermione leaned over and re-read that section of the article. "Perhaps Fleur told her? She was there."

Harry frowned. "It really doesn't seem to fit..." he went back to reading and got to the part that described Fleur confronting him about his sexuality at the end of the night. It painted it into a much different picture of course, making it look like he had tricked her, and toyed with her feelings, in a way that only Skeeter could pen so skillfully.

"Are you sure that Fleur wasn't really upset?" Hermione asked again.

Harry shook his head. "I really was sure... I'll have to go see her. Talk to her."

"She could just lie to you," Hermione pointed out.

The corner of Harry's mouth turned up into a secret smirk that he quickly pushed down. "I think I can read her pretty well, actually. I'll know if she's lying."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look, and rose a single eyebrow questioningly. Harry, however, chose not to elaborate.

– –


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

"Fleur, can we talk?" Harry said as he caught up to the gaggle of French girls walking across the courtyard. Fleur looked back at him and the sadness in her eyes was obvious, even from ten feet away. She said a few quiet words to some of her friends and they dispersed.

"'arry, I swear I didn't say a word to anyone," she began the instant they were alone.

Harry gave her a soft smile, but didn't waste anytime slipping into her mind. He skimmed through her thoughts and saw a glimpse of her reading Skeeter's article that morning. She was infuriated, especially by the bits accusing Harry of 'toying with the poor little French girl's heart'.

She really had no idea how Skeeter had come across her information. Fleur definitely wasn't the one who told her.

Harry pulled back out and continued the smile; only more genuine now. "I believe you," he said simply with a calm shrug.

"Oh 'arry! Zat woman iz a disgusting wretch! She writes lies and fabrications! In France, she would be liable for writing such slander!"

Harry smirked and shrugged. "Yeah... you know, you've got a point. Wonder if maybe I should get myself a solicitor and sue the Prophet."

"You should!" she said as she folded her arms across her chest, haughtily.

Harry chuckled. "Although in this one instance, she didn't lie or exaggerate, nearly as much as in her previous articles about me..."

"Well she lied about me! Insinuating that you mislead me and broke my heart. Stupid woman."

"Well, I did sort of mislead you. I mean... I didn't tell you I was gay."

"You didn't have to. I knew already," Fleur said dismissively. "I knew before I even accepted. I am not some stupid, naive little girl who allows boys to toy with my heart. Her insinuations about my character were offensive _to me._"

"Well then maybe _you_ should sue for slander," Harry said chuckling mildly.

Fleur sighed, and the fire of her anger extinguished slightly. "I cannot understand how you are not more angry 'arry. If it were me that she had written such garbage about, I would be utterly furious!"

Harry shrugged. "I'm getting used to it. Public opinion is a fickle monster. One day they love me, the next day they hate me, and then the following week they expect me to be their savior. It was a roller coaster head trip that I realized I didn't have to ride. So I got off. To hell with what they all think. I can try and do damage control, but freaking out over it isn't going to help matters."

Fleur scrutinized Harry for a long minute before shaking her head and grinning weakly. "You are remarkably mature for zomeone who is only fourteen, 'arry."

He laughed. "Thanks... I think."

She smiled brightly, took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a friendly hug. Harry blinked in startled surprise. He was frozen for a minute, but forced himself to wrap his arms weakly around her waist and return the hug.

Finally she let go and took a step back. "If anyone gives you a hard time, I will defend your 'onor, 'arry. You were a fantastic date and I am glad I went with you to zee ball."

"Thanks," he said chuckling.

They said goodbye and parted ways after that. He cast a quick tempus and saw that lunch was about over. He grimaced. He had divination next. Oh how he _hated_ divination.

– –

"Hey Poofer! Running off to meet with your boyfriend, Weasley?" an annoying voice called out as Harry made his way down the corridor after staying behind in Charms, later the next day. Harry turned around to face Draco Malfoy, leaning against the wall several feet away. A quick glance around was all he needed to determine that they were alone. Not even Malfoy's two cronies were around. A mischievous grin spread across his lips.

"Me, date _Ron_? Are you mad? I _do_ have standard's Draco. Really, now," Harry said, rolling his eyes dramatically and making a mockingly effeminate gesture with his hand.

Draco gaped at him and looked amusingly confused. Harry snickered and began to strut his way closer to the blond, who noticeably tensed up at the unexpected behavior.

"And seriously? _Poofer_? Is that supposed to be a play on Potter? Is that the best you can come up with? I thought you were more clever than that, _Draco_."

"Shut up, Potter," the blond spat, taking another step back as Harry continued to approach.

"Tsk, tsk, Draco. Where are those clever retorts your so famous for?" Harry said as he began to dig into his magic and pull some of his power to the surface. It was absolutely delicious and he grinned wider.

He raised one hand slightly, causing the other boy's eyes to lock on it, and his whole body to tense up. He saw Draco's hand clench his wand, held there, and begin to rise.

_§Don't move,§_ Harry hissed as he cast the magic out and encircled the blond boy. Draco froze in place and his eyes widened in horror.

"So," Harry said as he extended one hand and placed it on the wall beside Malfoy's head and leaned forward, pressing the other boy against the wall completely. Malfoy's eyes were wide with panic as it became more and more obvious that he couldn't move, "what did you want," Harry said in a whispery sort of voice, with his face only inches away from Malfoy's.

"W-what?" Malfoy stuttered.

"You called to me. What did you want?" Harry explained, smirking and pressing their chests together further.

Malfoy breathed in a sharp hiss of surprise as he was pressed against more intimately than he had _ever_ expected. "What the bloody hell are you doing, Potter!" Malfoy said, but his voice was surprisingly weak and clearly filled with panic.

"Well you _did_ call out to me, _Draco._ Asking me if I was running off to a boyfriend or something. I thought maybe you were jealous. Interested in some fun, _Draco?_"

"You're mad! What are you doing to me? Why can't I move?"

"You can't move, because I told you not to," Harry smirked as he swirled up some of his magic and gathered it into his fingertips. He reached out and lightly traced his knuckles over Malfoy's cheek and the blond boy gasped and his body involuntarily arched off the wall.

"What is that?" Malfoy gasped.

"It's magic," Harry whispered into Malfoy's ear. He let his breath fan out across Malfoy's ear and neck and pushed more of his magic towards the other boy; swirling it around him tantalizingly.

Malfoy's breathing became labored and his eyes rolled back into his sockets. "That's not just magic," he panted as his body began to spasm and buck against his own will. More and more of Harry's magic was beginning to dance over the surface of the other boy's skin, and he reveled in how intense the blond boy's reaction was to such a small tease of his magic. It was glorious and _easy_, and _Merlin_ it was fun!

"Oh? Not just magic?" Harry asked with a playfully curious tone.

"That's... that's _dark_ magic," Malfoy gasped out before a small moan escaped from deep in his throat.

Harry paused and pulled back slightly, frowning. Some of his magic retreated with him, and Malfoy whimpered at the loss, but it was apparently enough for him to regain some of his senses. His eyes opened and were filled with a look of shock and horror.

"Get off me!" He growled angrily.

Harry looked back down at Malfoy, with a mildly disinterested mask pulled on. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. You're no fun," He said as he stepped away completely and waved his fingers, releasing the parselmagic that had been holding Malfoy in place.

The moment his body was free, Malfoy darted several feet away from Harry and stood facing him in a defensive stance, and tightly gripping his wand.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're playing at, Potter?" the blond spat angrily, but the fear was still evident in his eyes.

"Just having a bit of _fun_ Draco. Don't be so uptight," Harry said, dismissively.

"What... what _was_ that? What... how did you _do _that?"

"Just a bit of magic, Draco. And as for how? I just _did._ It's _easy,_" Harry said smirking.

"When did Dumbledore's golden-boy start tinkering in _dark magic?_"

Harry growled and took a harsh step forward, causing Malfoy to flinch and raise his wand.

"I'm _no one's_ golden-boy!" he hissed. "Lease of all, _Dumbledore's_," he sneered.

Malfoy blinked. His expression began as startled surprise; morphed into confusion, and then into something approaching intrigue.

He nodded his head and smirked slightly. "Alright Potter. If you say so."

Harry sneered again, but it was diminished when he rolled his eyes. "I'm done here," he said, waving his hand at Draco and turning back down the hall the way he'd been heading before he was interrupted. Draco called something out after him, but Harry was already gone.

He turned around a corner and then ducked behind a tapestry into a hidden corridor. He pressed his back to the wall, closed his eyes tightly, and pressed his fists into his eye sockets.

"_What the hell was that!"_ He thought to himself in mild panic. Where had that... that _rage_, come from? He was mildly disconcerted at how easy it had been to screw with Malfoy, but that was nothing compared to the _fury_ that had filled him at the thought of Dumbledore.

Why?

He had never felt so much hate towards the man, as he had in that moment, and he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out _why_ he felt it.

And what of that comment from Malfoy about _dark_ magic? He hadn't tried to draw on any kind of magic at all, he was just drawing from his own magic. Commanding it consciously, but not using any specific spells or incantations. Could magic have an er... affinity, even if a specific spell wasn't being used? It was just _raw magic._ How could it be _dark?_

Harry sighed and let his legs slide out in front of him, and slowly slid his body down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He needed to think. He needed to understand aligned magic better. His knowledge of the fundamental theory of different types of magic was spotty at best. As he thought about it, it _was_ rather odd that it wasn't something covered in classes more.

It was the foundation of magical theory and they'd barely even skimmed the topic in his classes.

He shook his head and shifted back to the other matter. The _hate_ he had felt.

Harry had barely thought about Dumbledore at all lately. He had only thought of the man in passing at the task, and basically not at all since. Now, when he let himself linger on the idea of his headmaster, it left a fowl taste in his mouth and a scowl on his face. The idea that anyone thought of him as Dumbledore's golden-boy pissed him off.

Why?

It hadn't pissed him off before. Not really. The whole 'golden-boy' thing had always been rather annoying, but even Harry had to admit it was fairly obvious to the rest of the school that the headmaster had showed him favoritism on several occasions, so he could see where people got the idea.

_But he does a lot more to me besides show me the occasional favoritism._ Harry thought, bitterly. Every year it seemed like there was some new _test_. Some new challenge set up to mess with Harry. To push his limits, and to push him in some designed direction. And these things could always be linked back to Albus Dumbledore.

But that was hardly enough to warrant the raging inferno of fury that filled him at the mere thought of his headmaster. His anger wasn't all his. It couldn't be.

_Why can't it be?_ His companion's voice whispered through his mind and he sighed happily at the sudden presence. He felt the tension release from his shoulders and he relaxed back against the wall.

"_What do you mean?"_

_Why... do you feel that this... anger... cannot wholly be... yours?_

"_He... he hasn't really done enough to me to warrant so much anger," _Harry thought with a grumble.

_He has done plenty. And now... he has abandoned you._

"_Huh?"_

_He... could have stopped this. This tournament. You are young... Harry. Too young..._

"_But Mr. Crouch said I had to participate. That the rules were clear, or whatever."_

_Dumbledore could have stopped it. You... are underage._

"_Crouch said that the Goblet of Fire was like a magically binding contract,"_ Harry said, as he scowled down at his hands, thinking over the memories of Halloween night when his world was turned upside down... again. "If it's magically binding, doesn't that mean I lose my magic if I break it?"

_You are too young for a... magically binding... contract. Your magical... guardian... could have intervened. You can not be bound... not without your... guardian's consent._

"_Magical guardian?"_

_Dumbledore._

"_How is __**he**__ my magical guardian?"_ Harry asked, dubiously.

_He is... your headmaster. You have no... wizard guardians... so he gains your guardianship... while you are in his school. It is how... it works._

Harry blinked and tried to wrap his mind around that statement. _"How do you know this?"_

_I just do._

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't inquire further.

"_Okay... but I didn't really know all of that stuff, so how could it have made me angry?"_

_Perhaps... because I am... angered... by it. I knew. I knew he could... have stopped this. But he has not. He... is testing you... again. Always testing you. Manipulative old man... tricky...bastard..._

Harry blinked in surprise at the anger he heard in his companion's whispy voice. He never really heard emotion in his companion's voice. Not really.

He thought over what he had just learned and scowled. If it were true, it could only mean that this was another one of Dumbledore's ridiculous tests. Hell, maybe it was _Dumbledore_ that put his name in the bloody cup! But no... Voldemort clearly had something to do with Harry being in the tournament. Plus that man, 'Barty' seemed somehow involved in the whole thing. Like it was his job to somehow collect Harry and bring him to the Dark Lord.

He growled in frustration and shook his head. Okay, he definitely felt justified in his serious distrust and dislike of his headmaster, and realizing that his companion had a deep seeded hatred for the man did help explain Harry's sudden bout of unexpected emotion. It was still strange to think that his emotions had been overridden so easily by his companion's... but he trusted his companion, so it didn't bother him too much.

Finally he sighed and stood to his feet. He had been heading towards the chamber before he was interrupted. He pulled his cloak and map out of his bag, readied them, and began to make his way towards the second floor.

– –

Harry climbed through the portrait hold later that night exhausted and more than eager for some relaxation time in bed. He couldn't believe it was only Tuesday night. How could only two days of term passed, when it had felt like so much longer than that? Of course his days were pretty packed with classes, combined with his personal training regimen down in the chamber. He had so many things going on at once, he barely had time for homework and sleep.

He heard Seamus's and Dean's voices and glanced up to see the pair of them disappearing at the top of the stairs, just as he entered the common room. Neville was no where to be seen, and Ron was hunched over one of the common room tables with his transfiguration textbook open and a pile of parchment beside it. Hermione was sitting opposite him, and it looked like she was attempting to explain something to him, and getting frustrated by his inability to get it. Pretty common situation for him to find the two of them in.

Ron's head rose and when his eyes caught sight of Harry he grinned in relief.

"Harry!"

Harry rose a single eyebrow questioningly and made his way over, cautiously.

"Hey Ron, what's up?"

"You done with that essay for transfiguration yet?"

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione's scolding voice sounded immediately.

"What?" Ron exclaimed defensively.

"Do your own work!"

"I haven't even asked him for anything yet! I just asked him if he'd done it!"

"I'm not an idiot Ron. I refused to let you copy mine for a_ reason!_ You need to learn this, Ron! It's important!"

Harry looked at the pair of them bickering and chuckled.

Ron scowled but shifted his expression to a desperately hopeful one instead. "So... have you?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked.

"Finished it," Ron reiterated.

"Oh. Yeah, I got it done last night," Harry said dismissively.

"Can I –"

"RON!" Hermione growled.

Harry laughed openly now and began to shake his head. "No, Ron. Do your own work."

Ron's face fell immediately and he slouched back into his chair and pouted.

Harry turned away and began to head for the stairs.

"Where you going?" Ron asked as he sat up straighter, looking disappointed.

"Bed. I want to get some reading in, and I'm exhausted," Harry called over his shoulder as he kept going.

"Yeah.. me too. I mean, I'm exhausted too. I think I'll head up to bed."

Hermione made a frustrated growling sort of noise and slammed her own book shut rather roughly.

Harry didn't bother to wait and just kept heading up the stairs. He entered the boy's 4th year dormitory and made his way over to his bed.

Neville was already in bed, but his hangings weren't drawn shut. He was propped up in bed against his pillows, and reading a book. Dean was standing beside his own bed, digging around in his trunk, and Seamus looked to be sorting through his school bag. Seamus and Dean both paused in their actions and watched Harry as he entered the room.

He could feel their eyes trained on him and scowled, but chose not to acknowledge it until one of them got the balls to say something.

He opened his wardrobe and pulled out his cotton pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. He disrobed down to his boxers and slipped into his bed clothes. The room was eerily silent, and he could still feel their eyes on his back.

He climbed into bed and propped himself up against his pillows. He assumed the same basic arrangement as Neville, and pulled out the book, _Tip-Toeing Through the Mind of the Unaware_ by Clair Videre. He'd only had the time to read a little of it so far, and was hoping to get a little reading in before he finally went to sleep.

"Er... Harry?" Seamus's voice called out from across the room. Harry looked up at them with a single arched brow.

"Yeah?"

"You uh... need to use the loo, or anything?"

Harry blinked. "What?" he responded, in utter bewilderment.

"Or, you could just close your bed hangings," Dean offered quickly.

Harry looked between the two of them, trying to work out what the bloody hell they were on about. He saw that they were both standing by their respective beds with their own bed clothes laid out and ready to change. And yet they were both still standing there, fully dressed.

Suspicion dawned on him and he narrowed his eyes at them.

Ron walked in and interrupted the moment. He was grumbling about 'stupid bossy know-it-alls' and made his way straight over to his bed, beside Harry's. Ron wasted no time at all disrobing and slipping into a set of maroon flannel pajamas. Still Dean and Seamus stood awkwardly beside their beds, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"You don't want to get undressed with me here, do you?" Harry asked in an airy voice, while looking down at his book.

Both boys looked sheepish for a minute. Ron looked up, clearly confused by the sudden statement. He looked at Harry, and then at the two of their dorm mates who were still standing.

"What?" was Ron's eloquent response.

"Dean and Seamus," Harry said, tilting his chin towards the two boys, but then resuming his focus back onto the book in his lap. "They're uncomfortable getting undressed with me here."

"What? Why?" Ron responded, looking back at the other two boys in confusion.

Dean turned away, clearly embarrassed, and ran is hand through his short, tight brown curls. Seamus growled in frustration and folded his arms across his chest.

"Well, because he's... _you know!_" he said, jabbing his hand in Harry's general direction.

Ron,_ the blessed idiot_, still looked confused. Harry, however, understood exactly what was going on, and actually began to chuckle.

"No, I don't. He's what?" Ron exclaimed, getting frustrated by both _not getting it,_ and the insinuation that there was something wrong with Harry.

"They don't want to get naked in front of me 'cause I'm queer, Ron," Harry explained in a flat, dismissive tone as he turned the page in his book.

A startled choking sound emanated from Neville's side of the room, and Harry could see that Seamus had turned beat red, from out of the corner of his eye.

Ron turned to face Seamus and Dean with a furious expression on his face.

"Is that true?" he shrieked.

"Oh, come _on_ Ron!" Seamus said defensively.

"No! How can you... I mean... he's just Harry! How... Errrgh!" Ron growled in frustration and Harry actually laughed. They all turned to look at him, incredulously.

Harry rolled his eyes and closed the book.

"Look you guys," he started in an exasperated tone, "yes, I fancy blokes. Big deal. I don't fancy any one of _you_ though, so get over yourselves. I've seen every one of you starkers in the shower dozens of times over the last three and a half years; I haven't done anything _weird_ during that time, and I'm not about to start doing anything _weird_ now that I've been outed by that stupid cow Skeeter.

"Bloody hell, Seamus – what do you think – that I'm gonna start beating off to fantasies of you in your black and red Ballycastle Bats briefs?" he asked, barely restraining his laughter. "I'm not into any of you. Get over it."

And with that, he waved his hand, and hissed a quiet _close_ command under his breath, causing the hangings around his bed to fly closed and stick shut. He picked his book back up, and resumed reading.

– –

Harry's weak remained excessively full. As he had more classes, his homework load steadily rose, and by the end of the week, he was having trouble finding time to head down into the chamber to work on his transformation.

So far, the most he had managed to do was make his eyes go slitted, and make a few scales appear in scattered patches along his skin. He was starting to feel a tingling feeling in his limbs, but nothing had actually happened yet. He knew the next big step would involve his arms shrinking away to nothing – which was honestly a bit unnerving to think about.

He wondered if his nerves were hindering his progress.

On Saturday, Hermione and Ron set out to help him with the locator spells. The first one he was going to try required him to actually know what the thing taken was. They took the Sneak-o-Scope that Ron had given Harry for his birthday a few years prior, and disappeared from the common room to go hide it somewhere in the school. Considering how enormous the black lake was, Harry figured if he couldn't find the sneak-o-scope where ever they put it in the school, then the spell wouldn't be any use to him during the task.

Harry sat in the common room, waiting for them to return, and reading notes he had taken from the parselmagic book on the locator spells. He hadn't wanted to risk pulling that book out in the company of others, so he had left the actual book down in the chamber.

Most of it was cerebral. The incantation was actually incredibly simple. He just spoke _find_ and whatever the object was, in parseltongue. The hard part was how he focused, and how he controlled and directed his magical energy.

He mulled over the ideas in his head, and did a few simple practice runs by locating his quill, set on the table in front of him, and then locating a book that was placed on one of the little tables beside the fireplace.

He felt the pull on his magic in the proper direction each time, and the magic _felt_ like it was cooperating properly.

Finally Hermione and Ron appeared in the portrait hole looking mildly flushed, as if they had run back to the common room from where ever they had hidden the object.

"Alright, mate! It's done," Ron said with a wide grin.

Harry chuckled at Ron's enthusiasm and thanked them for their help. "Alright guys, thanks," Harry said standing up and heading towards the portrait hole.

"Can't we come with?" Ron asked, looking disappointed at Harry's retreating form.

"I don't think that would be a good idea... I mean, you two already _know_ where it is. That could somehow influence the spell. I'll be on my own in the lake. It'd be best if I practice under the same circumstances," Harry explained easily.

Ron pouted but nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I'll come find you two if the spell fails me and I can't manage to find it within the hour."

"Okay, mate."

"Thanks again," Harry said, giving them a bright, convincing smile before he turned and jogged out the portrait hole. He cast a quick tempus and made note of the time. One hour. If he couldn't find the sneak-o-scope in one hour with this spell, he was going to have to figure something else out.

And of course, after this, he needed to try out the spell that would find a hidden object, even if you didn't know exactly what the object was.

_That_ one was bound to be a tremendous amount more difficult to pull off.

Harry took a deep breath and calmed himself a bit. He focused on a mental image of a great black serpent, coiling and slithering. He felt the build of his parselmagic and called it forth, coiling it around him like the great black snake in his mind. Then he focused on the image of the Sneak-o-Scope.

Once he was positive he had the correct image and focus established, he hissed out _§find the __Sneak-o-Scope__§._

When he opened his eyes, a hazy, distorted image of the great black serpent filled his vision. It was like smoke flowing through liquid, but with form. It was slithering in mid-air in front of him, turning it's head from side-to-side, as if it were searching for something.

Suddenly the snake took off through the air like a bullet. Harry quickly began to race after it and willed it to slow down so as to not lose sight of it.

He tensed whenever he came across any students, even though he knew that none of them could see the snake. It was an apparition that only he could see. Still, being around anyone else while he did this made him nervous.

The snake quickly made it's way down the grand staircase and through the forth floor corridor. Finally it made it's way to one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined the walls in this wing and slipped right through it and disappeared.

Harry blinked at the sight in surprise before memory dawned on him. This mirror was the secret entrance to one of the passageways that led out of the school. Fred and George had informed him that it caved in during his second year, so Harry had never really bothered to explore it.

He grinned widely. He had to admit, every now and then Ron actually came up with a bright idea. He doubted that Hermione was behind this because he didn't think she actually knew about this passageway. Fred and George had probably told Ron about it.

Harry ran his fingers along the edges of the mirror trying to figure out how to get past it. He felt magic thrumming from it, and wondered if there was a password for this one, like there was a password for the statue of the one-eyed witch, on the second floor that covered the tunnel that lead to Honeydukes.

_Dissendium_ was used to reveal the hidden entrance to that tunnel, but he doubted that would work here since the mirror was most likely a _door_, and not something he would descend.

He took a step back and pulled out his wand. He tapped the mirror and thought _"cantio revelio."_

The magical energy he felt respond from the mirror didn't have a _word _to it, per se, but what he perceived made enough sense to him that he figured he could proceed. He imagined the magical signature that he had just sensed from the spell and pushed it back out at the mirror.

He heard a faint _click_ sound, and then the mirror swung open like a door.

He slipped inside and saw the black serpent waiting inside the small room on the other side. It was on the ground now, coiling and slithering in a circle around the Sneak-o-Scope, that was currently placed on the floor in the center of the room.

Harry grinned, walked over, and picked it up.

He cast another tempus and saw that it had only been about 18 minutes.

He would definitely consider that a success. Now to see if he could do it, even if he had no idea what had been taken from him.

– –

Harry fell into bed that night tired and moody. Despite his first success with the locator spell, all of his subsequent attempts had failed miserably. It looked like, if he had no idea what he was looking for, he had no way of finding it.

But surely they wouldn't actually tell him to just jump in the lake and 'find something that's yours'. Would they?

He hoped not.

But even aside from his crummy afternoon, he was currently extra moody because he was only about an hour away from heading back down to the chamber to take his next dose of the accelerant potion. And even with his ability to go into his mindscape to escape the excruciating pain, it didn't change the fact that he would get no sleep, and would end up horribly sore afterwards.

He lay in bed, fighting the urge to just fall asleep, for about an hour until he was positive that all of his dorm mates were asleep. He had his cloak, map, and bag ready, and, after casting a quick silencing spell upon himself, he slipped from the room, down into the common room, and out the portrait hole.

Harry was making his way down the grand staircase and checking the map frequently for any signs of Filch or Peeves when something odd caught his attention.

Bartemius Crouch.

What was Mr. Crouch doing at Hogwarts after midnight? But, even more curious, was the fact that Bartemius Crouch was currently digging through Snape's potion stores. The little dot with Crouch's name floating beside it was moving to and fro inside the small store room; pausing here and there for a few moments at a time.

Harry's curiosity was peaked. He picked up his pace and hurried down the stairs and towards the entrance to the dungeons. He slipped down the hall and around a corner, and came to a stop a short distance from the potion storehouse. The door was closed but the light was still on inside. Harry tapped his wand against the map and canceled the spell before slipping it into his pocket. He was just about to take a few steps closer when the door swung open.

Harry instantly pressed himself back against the wall and into a shadowed alcove, even though he was already invisible.

What he saw made his jaw drop.

'Mad-Eye' Moody came striding quickly down the hallway with some things tucked under his arm. He looked around suspiciously and Harry felt his blood run cold. He _knew_ that eye could see through invisibility cloaks. All he could do at this point was hope that Moody wouldn't look his way.

The defense professor looked shifty-eyed down the hallway towards the Slytherin common room, and Snape's office, then quickly turned on his heels and walked briskly towards the dungeon's exit.

Harry stayed there, pressed up against the cold stone wall, holding his breath until several minutes after the man had left. Finally he felt like it was safe to breath again and he raced out of the dungeons and towards the grand staircase.

He reactivated the map en route, and headed straight for Myrtle's bathroom. Five minutes later and Harry came to rest inside Slytherin's study. He sat down heavily on the chaise and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

What the hell did it mean?

There had been no dot that said Alastor Moody anywhere near the dungeon. In fact, after Harry had reactivated the map he saw the Moody's name was inside his office, while Bartemius Crouch was still wandering the halls for a minute more.

But he had _seen _Moody. Not Crouch.

Harry decided to start paying closer attention to Alastor Moody's location on the map, and keep a watchful eye open for Bartemius Crouch.

– –

Harry stumbled to his feet awkwardly. To say that his whole body hurt, would be an understatement. He now had come up with an effective way to describe what it felt like while under the effects of the accelerant potion. It felt like having searing hot barbed wire pulled through every vein in his body.

How the hell could anyone endure this potion without the escape that Harry was using? Surely anyone doing it would go mad from the pain alone...

Harry shook his head, but instantly regretted it as his head began to spin dizzily and he felt nauseous. A moment later he had collected himself and made his way over to the full length standing mirror to one side of the study.

Once again his skin was mottled in quickly fading bruises, but aside from the mild discoloration, he had to admit he was rather pleased with what he saw.

He was filling out rather nicely. His shoulders looked a tad more broad, he had gained two more inches in height, his skin looked healthier than ever, and his muscle definition was increasing in leaps and bounds.

Gone, were any signs of his bones. He was filling out in all the right places, and looked _solid_ now, instead of flimsy and breakable.

This had been his forth dose of the accelerant, so he was half way done, yet he was already thrilled with the results.

He reached up and ran his fingers through his raven black hair. Even it looked healthier. It had a lustrous shine to it that it never really had before. It felt thicker and softer too. It didn't seem nearly as untamable and it once was and Harry wondered if he should actually start making some attempts at styling it in the mornings.

He shrugged off his own though, stretched his stiff, sore muscles, and gathered up his things. He'd catch the tail end of lunch, and then head straight to bed. Hopefully he wouldn't encounter too much curious intervention from Ron or Hermione. He needed sleep, damn it, and if they tried to interrogate him, he was likely to get snippy with them.

He'd done a remarkably good job of playing nice with the two tag-alongs, and didn't want to screw it up now after all the effort that had gone into reestablishing a cordial relationship with the two of them.

Since 'making-up' with them, his house-mates had begun laid off the accusations of him going dark. Since his forced public outing, the Hufflepuffs had actually laid off him a bit too. Why that was, exactly, he really couldn't even begin to fathom. He had just seen the results and was thankful for them.

The Slytherins had, of course, had their fair share of queer jokes to throw at him, but Draco Malfoy hadn't said a single word to Harry since their encounter outside the charms corridor the day after he was outed.

Malfoy _had_ shot Harry any number of subtle, curious looks. Several times, when other Slytherin students _near_ Malfoy took to openly mocking Harry, Malfoy actually put a stop to it. He would elbow the offender in the ribs and glare at them, or he'd just pull them away from Harry.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, but he wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth. He'd take what he could get.

Right now, however, what he _needed_, was sleep.

– –

Monday morning Harry was finally feeling recovered from his ordeal with the accelerant potion. The weariness and the sore muscles had fully subsided, and he was left feeling stronger and more energetic than ever. His body just felt _good._ He had never realized how many minor aches and pains his body suffered from until he got rid of them.

He had never fully appreciated the full extent of the damage a decade of malnutrition had done to him. It had left him with weak and brittle bones, achy muscles, and he was easily tired. He was thrilled to know he was finally going to be rid of all of that.

Harry followed Ron to breakfast and they were greeted by Hermione, who was already there, and sitting beside Neville and Ginny. He and Ron joined them, and a casual conversation settled in around them. Harry didn't actually contribute much, but he nodded his head and appropriate times, and chuckled when it was expected, even though he found their conversation to be mostly aimless drivel.

About half-way through the meal the post owls arrived and Harry was greeted with a medium sized parcel being carried by a pair of brown owls. Harry eagerly relieved them of their burden and gave them each a piece of ham.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, looking at it curiously.

"Books, probably," Ron grumbled, rolling his eyes in apparent disgust.

Ginny looked at Harry expectantly, silently asking for confirmation. Harry just nodded his head. "Books," he said with a grin.

"What sort of books?" Neville asked between bites of sausage.

"A variety. I recently started ordering books from a publisher's owl-order catalog. It started with a potions book, but after they sent me the catalog, I found that they had a _ton_ of really interesting books on loads of different subjects. I've just been getting anything that peaked my interest."

"He's _always_ reading now. He's as bad as Hermione," Ron grumbled, scowling.

"Harry's been amassing quite a book collection," Hermione said with a proud little smile, choosing to act deaf of Ron's remarks.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, but at this rate, I'm not sure how the hell I'm going to take any of it back to Privet Drive with me. I've already got too many to fit inside my trunk." Harry paused and looked over at Hermione curiously. "How do you do it?"

"Hmm?"

"You've got _loads_ of books. More than I have. How do you store them all?"

"Oh! Well I've got a special trunk with a expanded book compartment."

Harry blinked at her. "Huh?"

"Well back during the summer before my first year when my parents took me to Diagon Alley for the first time, we spent _ages_ in Flourish and Blotts, of course, and I found _so many books_ that I wanted to get to try and understand magic better. When we got to the luggage store to purchase my trunk, the shop keeper saw the bags and bags of books my dad was carrying and recommended a special 'library trunk' that he offered. It has two compartments. The normal one that opens when you turn the key clockwise, and a second one that opens if you turn the key in a counter-clockwise direction. The second compartment is magically expanded and designed specifically for holding books. I don't know what I would have done all these years without it."

"Huh. That sounds brilliant," Harry said looking thoughtful. "I may have to look into getting one of those. Hey, isn't there a Hogsmeade weekend coming up?"

"This weekend, actually," Ginny said nodding.

He hummed in thought and turned back to Hermione. "Does Hogsmeade have a magical luggage store?"

"I think so."

"Well, I think I'll pay the place a visit then," Harry said with a small grin as he refocused on his food and resumed his meal.

– –

Lafole and Pokeby's Storage and Travel was a shop that looked exceedingly small from the outside, and yet was surprisingly large on the inside. The proprietors apparently specialized in space extension charms for the sake of storing a great many things, in very small places.

It was Harry's first stop during his visit to Hogsmeade that Saturday, while Ron made his way to Honeydukes, and Hermione paid Scrivenshaft's a visit. He made his way directly to the luggage section and started browsing around the trunks. He was quickly assaulted by a large set man who he learned was Mr. Lafole.

Harry got straight to business since he didn't know how much time he would have before Ron or Hermione came back to find him, and he was curious as to what sorts of enchantments could be built into a trunk.

As it turned out, a _great many things_ could be put into them. Lafole even offered custom services. Harry could make a list of exactly what he wanted, and he large older wizard could make him exactly what he needed. He got a list of different features offered, which included notations on which charms couldn't be used together because they were compatible, or would counteract each other in some way.

He went down the list, marking off exactly what he wanted, opting not to worry himself with the final price tag. If this worked out as well as he hoped, he would likely be keeping this trunk for many years after Hogwarts.

When he was done with his selection, Mr. Lafole had him choose which of the trunks designs from his selection that Harry wanted all of the charms and spells applied to. He went with a plain, nondescript brown one. He saw no reason to go with something overly extravagant on the outside. It would only draw attention to the trunk. The more plain and simple it appeared, the less conspicuous it would be.

Lafole told him he could have all of the charms applied in three hours and Harry was thrilled that he would be getting it back the same day. He paid half the price up front, and would pay the rest when he came back to pick it up.

He left the shop just in time to see Hermione coming out of Scrivenshaft's with a bag filled with various supplies and writing utensils. Together, they went in search of Ron, and then the three of them made their way to the Three Broomsticks.

When they got there, Harry's eye was caught by an odd sight. In the back corner of the pub was a group of rather shifty looking goblins, surrounding Ludo Bagman. Hermione and Ron were both incredibly curious as to why on earth Ludo Bagman might be surrounded by goblins, but Harry knew _exactly_ why.

He was already aware that Bagman had a bit of a gambling problem. The fact that Bagman was in debt to the goblins was why the man had been willing to give Harry the information on how the dragon's were assigned to each contestant, back in November.

A light went on in Harry's mind at that moment and a grin spread its way across Harry's face. The problem was, how to ditch Ron and Hermione – and how to get Ludo away from the goblins – so that Harry could speak with the man.

The three began to make their way towards one of the tables when Ludo turned slightly and caught sight of Harry. His eyes lit up with relief and he quickly said something to his companions before standing up and making his way towards the trio.

"Well hello there, Mr. Potter!" Ludo exclaimed while nervously glancing back at the goblins.

"Hello Mr. Bagman," Harry replied politely. Ron and Hermione both looked a bit dubious.

"I was wondering if I might have a word with you," he began and hesitated before glancing at Harry's two companions, "_alone."_

Harry tried to look confused, and mildly concerned, but inside he was jumping for joy. He gave Ron and Hermione a look that told them that it was alright to leave him and they both shrugged and left, still looking mildly bewildered.

"Let's head on over here, shall we?" Bagman said as he began to guide Harry to a deserted side of the pub. "I wanted to congratulate you on your remarkable performance with the dragons, Harry," Bagman began.

"Thanks Mr. Bagman. Your tip on how the dragons were selected actually helped me a lot," Harry said giving the other man a smirk.

"Oh? Did it now?" Bagman replied, with a surprised look on his face. "Well, I'm glad it did. While we're on that matter, Harry, I was wondering how you were doing with that clue for the next task?"

"Oh I've had it all worked out for a while now. I'm working on a few different strategies."

Bagman's face lit up with an expression of relieved hope for a moment before he got it under control a bit.

"Ah, well, that's... that's great to hear, my boy. If there's anything you need help with, anything at all –"

"Actually, now that you mention it, I was wondering if perhaps you could answer a question I have."

"Oh? What is it?"

"The clue says that something will be taken from me, and hidden somewhere in the Black Lake. I was wondering if you have any idea what is going to be taken? And will they tell me what it is when the task begins, or do I have to do a blind search?"

"Oh! Oh, that. That's easy."

Harry's eyebrows rose expectantly, waiting for the retired quidditch star to answer the damn question. "Well?"

Bagman looked around shiftily for a moment before leaning in and speaking in a more hushed voice. "They won't be taking some_thing,_ they'll be taking some_one._"

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Some_one?_"

"That's right. Someone you consider very important to you will be taken, just before the task. He, or she, will be put into a magical stasis, and hidden somewhere at the bottom of the lake. Inside the merfolk's village or something, as I understand it."

Harry looked at the man incredulously. Some_one!_

"How is the person they take determined?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"The cup determines it. The name of the person will come out of the cup in a ceremony held with the headmasters a few days before the actual task."

Harry nodded his head slowly and lowered his head as he thought over this newest development. He was going to have to test his locator charm to see if it worked on finding _people_, and not just an object.

"Oh! Will they tell me who they've taken?" Harry asked suddenly.

"I don't think so. No," Bagman said, shaking his head slowly.

Harry groaned, inwardly. _Great,_ he thought, bitterly.

He huffed a bit in annoyance before covering it up with an expression of gratitude.

"Oh, one more thing."

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Are people going to be able to see what we're doing down there in the lake? I mean, does Dumbledore have some sort of monitoring setup so the spectators can watch?"

"No, no... nothing like that. We really won't be able to see much of anything while you lot are down there. Doesn't make for much of a spectator event. I had argued for a different task because of it – something that people could actually _watch_, but no one really gave me much mind."

Harry grinned with relief and nodded his head. "Ah, well, that's too bad I guess. Anyway, thanks a load, Mr. Bagman."

"Oh, don't mention it, Mr. Potter," he said with a genial grin, then he hesitated and looked a bit more worried. "I, er... mean that. Don't mention it."

Harry chuckled and gave the other man a mischievous grin. "Oh don't worry. This conversation will stay between the two of us. Good luck with the goblins, by the way."

Bagman grimaced and glanced back at the group of intimidating looking creatures still sitting towards the other side of the room, eying Bagman with varying degrees of disgust.

The two said their goodbyes and parted ways. Harry made his way over to the table Hermione and Ron had acquired and placed an order for lunch with Madam Rosmerta.

"So what was that all about?" Hermione asked.

Harry snorted. "Bagman's got some nasty debts with the goblins. He's in bad for gold, so he's bet on the long-shot in the tournament. Namely _me._ He was offering to give me any hints or tips in figuring out the egg clue, in case I hadn't worked it out yet."

Hermione gasped and looked horribly indignant. "That's cheating!" she shrieked.

Harry gave her a hard glare that told her to keep her voice down, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"I _know_ that Hermione. It's not like I took him up on it. I mean, I had the egg worked out ages ago, so I certainly don't need help with it anyway."

Hermione was still frowning, but she eventually seemed to let it go once their meals showed up.

Once done with lunch, Harry busied himself with some window shopping at several stores, and then paid a visit to a clothing boutique called Schott's Casual Clothing and Attire. Harry had never bothered to come into this shop before, since he never really gave a lot of thought to the quality of the clothes he wore under his school robes in previous years.

In addition to a nice selection of casual robes and other wizarding clothing styles, they had a small selection of muggle clothes. Much like the luggage shop, the proprietor offered custom charms on clothing for a fee. Self-cleaning, warming, cooling, dirt-repellent, water-repellent, and automatic resizing were just a few of the charms offered.

Harry got the automatic resizing charms placed on every pair of pants he purchased, since he expected he might still grow another few inches before he was done with the accelerant potion, and didn't feel particularly fond of the idea of his ankles showing at the bottom of his pant legs.

He purchased five pairs of jeans, a couple pairs of khaki's, ten different t-shirts in various colors. He wasn't aiming for anything extravagant. Just a wardrobe that fit and wasn't full of holes.

By the time he was done there, enough time had passed that his trunk was ready and he made his way back to Lafole and Pokeby's.

Among the charms he had placed on the trunk was the ability to shrink it down to size automatically with the tap of his wand in a specific spot on the lid. This would be especially useful since he couldn't shrink or un-shrink his trunk himself when outside of school. He could slip it into his pocket on the train, and not have to worry about Vernon stealing it from him and locking it away in the cupboard.

He put his new clothing inside the trunk, tapped his wand on the shrinking spot and it instantly became the size of a matchbox. Harry grinned.

He paid Mr. Lafole the remaining balance and headed back to school. Once he got past the main entrance to the school he hurried his way into an empty classroom and began the locator spell with the large black serpent, but this time, focused on finding Hermione, instead of finding an object.

He felt the magic begin to work, and saw the snake begin to slither off through the air towards the grand staircase.

The issue of _not knowing_ who was taken would still pose a problem, but perhaps he could narrow it down before the task started. Basically, whoever was missing from attending the actual task was probably someone who had been taken. He could just find _that person._ Hopefully it would work.

He followed the great black snake through the castle and up to the seventh floor, and directly to the portrait hole. Upon entering the room, he saw the enormous black apparition coiling in circles in the air around an utterly oblivious Hermione. It was a very strange sight, but it made him extra thankful that he was the only one who could actually see the snake. If anyone else could see it, he could only imagine the panic that would be ensuing in the common room at that instant. He snickered at the though, and ended the spell, causing the serpent to vanish from his vision.

– –


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Harry entered the chamber, pulled his matchbox-sized trunk out of his front pocket and set it down on the floor. He tapped his wand on the top of it, and it instantly enlarged to full size.

The trunk had three latches on the front; two with keyholes and a spoken password, and depending on which one you turned before opening the trunk, you would find one of three different compartments. The two with the extra security features were book compartments, and the way they worked was really quite fascinating.

When you opened the trunk to one of the book compartments, there were two rows worth of 'shelves' facing up, but they slide from side to side as if they were on rollers. The space was magically expanded on each side of the trunk so even though the books appeared to be sliding into the side of the trunk and vanishing, they were actually disappearing into a magically expanded space. The shelves also looped, so you could keep sliding it to the right for what seemed like forever, and it would just keep repeating the same set of books.

He didn't know how it worked, but he was definitely interested in finding out. He added 'expansion charms' to his list of 'things that are safe to ask the teachers' in a bound notebook he had been keeping for his extracurricular learning activities.

He sat down on the floor in front of his trunk and began to empty it of all of his books. He had amassed quite a nice collection during the past month and a half of owl-ordering from Crespus Publishing's catalog. In fact, the collection had got so large that he hadn't had enough room for them in his old trunk and that was becoming a problem since quite a few of them were of a substantially questionable nature and he couldn't exactly leave them laying on the desk beside his bed for his dorm mates to spot.

He had stuffed them, haphazardly, into his new trunk rather quickly, but now he wanted to organize them. He also wanted to sort through which books from Salazar's Study he was going to... _borrow_.

The first thing he did was separate his 'safe' books from his more questionable ones. The organized the safe books and put them into the second compartment and gave it the password 'Quidditch'. If Hermione or Ron ever needed to get a book from his trunk for him, he could just tell them that the second compartment was his book compartment and tell them the password. Nice and safe and a good way to avoid suspicion.

All of the _other_ books, he organized by subject and then alphabetically, and then placed them in the third compartment. On that one he assigned a parseltongue password. He used _§Notechus§,_ which was the Latin name for the tiger snake and was the alias he had been using when ordering from Crespus Publishing.

As he was sorting through them, he set a few aside a couple that he he had skimmed through recently and had been meaning to actually _practice_. He hadn't gotten a lot of time to read many of the books he'd bought from Crespus since none of them were safe to read in the common room, and he had had even less time to actually practice any of it, since most of his time in the chamber had been reserved for practicing the serpentine transformation. Now, however, he thought was probably a good time to try some of them out.

He stretched an arm over his head and twisted a crick out of his back that had formed from sitting on the floor for the last hour. He was relatively satisfied with his book sorting. Most of the books that he had added to his collection, from the Slytherin's library, were books that had probably been left there by Riddle since none of them were old enough to have been left by Slytherin. Some small part of him worried about just _how many_ of Tom Riddle's books sparked a strong pull of curiosity and intrigue in him, but he squashed the concern quickly and pressed on.

He also keep two of Slytherin's parselmagic books.

He looked at the two books he had set aside to practice from and frowned. He was waging a bit of an internal struggle over this. It was so easy to say he was okay with it when it was just a matter of ordering a book from a list, but now that he was legitimately planning on _practicing_ what was contained in the book, he could feel a bit of a queasy unsettled knot in his gut.

This was a book entirely on _dark magic_.

It certainly wasn't the nastiest of the dark magic books he'd bought. It was sort of an introduction to lesser dark curses. He had already read through several dark magic theory books, but this was the first time he was going to actually try using some real spells.

For a while he hadn't been sure how exactly he _would_ try out the spells. Most were rather destructive, obviously, but he didn't want to start throwing off spells at the walls. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a cave-in down in the chamber and end up getting trapped.

But then he was walking through the chamber one day and looked over at the great, enormous basilisk corpse and was struck with an epiphany.

That beast was magically resistant. Most of his spells would get absorbed right into it's scales, so there was no risk of blasting the ceiling of the chamber in on himself.

He took a deep breath and picked the book up.

It was just magic. Damned useful magic at that. That was all. There was no point in ignoring an entire branch of magic just because it scared those too weak to handle it. Harry was _not weak_.

Having sufficiently steeled himself, Harry stood to his feet and made his way out into the basilisk chamber. He had the book open in one hand while he skimmed several of the spells and walked, and he had his bound notebook in the other.

The book was called '_Sceadwian's Tome of Shadow Vol. 1; Dark Magic that really really hurts, but won't quite kill.' _In his notebook he had already made notes of a few of the spells he wanted to practice, and what page to find them on.

He had two lists. One was a list of environment spells. Things that effected the surroundings. These were spells he figured he could easily practice on the basilisk corpse. The second list was a collection of spells he thought would be useful, but were specifically intended for attacking a live human being with.

He could still practice casting them, but he wouldn't be able to tell if they were cast properly and actually working without an actual person to test them on.

He flipped through his notebook to the page of the environment effecting spells and read through his notes.

_Scateren glaesum - Makes any inanimate surface crack and shatter like glass. See pg 98._

_Khnwos - __Scrambles the matter of an object chaotically. See pg 142._

_Dimoliri - Tears down a small structure to rubble. See pg 52._

_Collabi - __Collapses everything within a sphere of space into a crunched mass. See pg 151._

_Quassare - Makes a black point of void and sucks immediate surroundings into it. See pg 172._

_Screade - Dark cutting curse that can slice through most anything. See pg 208._

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he debated what he wanted to try first. He wondered of _Screade_, that cut through 'most anything' would be able to cut through basilisk skin?

A cutting curse was always useful, and if this _dark_ cutting curse could actually cut through basilisk skin, it would _definitely_ be useful in other situations. More useful than _diffindo_, that was for sure.. He decided to focus on it first, and opened his book to page 208 to re-read the section on the curse.

A few minutes later he felt prepared and stood before the corpse and pointed his wand.

He figured he could work up to non-verbal after some practice actually saying the incantation aloud, since he had never actually performed any spells like this before. He aimed at a portion of the basilisk's underbelly, focused his magic and drawing it out and around him and shouted out "_Screade!"_

He felt a sudden and enormous surge of a certain, neglected portion of his magic flow through him, and out his wand. A black beam of color with jagged twirls of deep purple intertwined with it, shot out of his wand and hit the corpse. Harry gasped and felt his knees give out as he suddenly found himself a few feet lower and blinking in stunned surprise.

The magic that had coursed through him had been so utterly raw and intense. It had felt... it had felt _incredible!_

He hadn't been prepared for it to feel like that. It wasn't anything like using neutral magic. If anything, it felt a lot closer to what his parselmagic felt like. Only... _more._

Harry collected himself and stood back up. His eyes were blazing with a weird sort of ecstatic glee. His whole body felt like it was on fire with white hot _amazing._ He couldn't comprehend any other way to describe it. He pointed his wand at the corpse and cast the spell again.

He gasped and wobbled slightly at the intensity, but didn't lose his footing this time. He threw the spell again, and again and again, and before he knew what was happening, he was cackling madly at the top of his lungs. The more magic he pulled out of himself and threw into the spell, the more incredible it felt. He finally began to feel so light-headed that he began to waver slightly from side to side and his cackle morphed into a subdued titter. He lowered his wand arm and blinked in surprise.

His first few attacks on the basilisk had left it unmarred, but at some point during his barrage, his attacks had apparently begun to do some actual _damage._ The small section of snake belly that he had focused his attacks on was criss-crossed with shallow gouges.

Another little giggle escaped his throat at the shock of it.

Power. So much unbelievable, raw, delicious power. It was incredible. He could still feel it. It was coursing through his veins and making his head feel foggy, leaving him in an odd euphoric haze. But he loved it. Oh Merlin, he loved it.

_More. _

Harry looked down at the book that lay discarded on the floor beside his notepad. He moved over to it in a few quick strides with wide, hungry eyes.

He glanced at his notebook first and decided upon one of the spells.

_Quassare - Makes a black point of void and sucks immediate surroundings into it._

_Sounds interesting..._ he said with a twisted little grin spreading across his lips.

He opened the dark arts spell book to the proper page and quickly read through the passages on the spell. He had a feeling he was rushing it, but he just felt so damned eager to try it out. To feel that rush again.

He set the book back down and returned his focus to the basilisk. He pointed his wand, aiming at the same section of scarred flesh he had already assaulted. He pulled forth that intoxicating dark magic that came to him so deliciously easily and let it course through his every limb. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head and another little chortle escaped his mouth before he blinked and refocused on the corpse. Aiming his wand, he called out _"Quassare!"_

The first time it didn't seem to do anything at all, but he felt the rush of magic. It wasn't nearly as powerful as the cutting curse had been though and he scowled. He refocused his magic, pulling more of it out and leaving it at easy access to him. He tried to control his heavy excited breaths and pointed his wand again.

"_Quassare!"_

A tiny black ball appeared in space where he was focusing his aim and popped big and then small, and then big again for a split second before disappearing with a _Bang!_

He felt more of the fantastic tingling vibrating all through him that time and had a better idea of what he might be doing wrong. He walked back over to the book and re-read a passage before returning to the snake.

Once again, he pointed his wand, focused the incredible dark magic just so and called out _"Quassare!"_

The black sphere appeared again, right at the point where all the criss-crossed scars littered the snake's skin. It grew in size by about two feet in diameter, and during that brief moment Harry was consumed with tremendous euphoria and called out in stunned pleasure. The black sphere then shrunk down into nothing, disappearing completely with a _pop!_

Where the black sphere had been, now existed nothing. There was a perfect hemisphere-shaped chunk now absent from the side of the basilisk. He could see the layers of skin, muscle, and bone that had been vanished with the black magical ball.

_And this is a bloody basilisk!_ Harry thought with excited glee. Basilisks, that were so incredibly powerful, and supposed to be 'magic resistant.'

_Not very resistant to powerful dark magic._ Harry mentally chuckled with unrestrained glee.

He closed his eyes and shivered as he let out a slow, shuddering breath. His whole body felt so indescribably amazing. It was like the most powerful endorphins known to man were flooding his entire nervous system, setting every nerve on fire with pleasure.

Harry let out a slow breath and opened his eyes slowly as a wicked nasty grin spread across his face. He felt insane with glee. Too insane to rationally analyze his own thoughts or actions. Everything was about this feeling.

Feeling encouraged by his results, he threw another ball of dark magic at the corpse, with similar results. The insane cackled began to escape from his chest again and he began to send off a barrage of the spell. One after another, he pointed his wand and cast the _Quassare _curse at the snake, leaving it littered with round holes of varying size vanished from it's flesh. When he cast the spell faster and in quick succession, the circles were smaller, but that seemed to give him the greatest rush.

He began to mix in _Screade _curses at random intervals, practicing repeating his success at slashing into the beasts flesh with it. He felt the need to move. His whole body was pulsing and his muscles were twitching with the need for action. He began strafing from side to side, and then intermixing it with rolls across the floor as if he were dodging incoming spells. All the while, still throwing the delicious dark curses at the snake and trying to maintain his aim.

Anything to give him an excuse to keep firing off the glorious, amazing magic.

Sometime around three in the morning, after Harry had been laying on the floor in a giggling mindless heap for about two hours, Harry blinked his eyes and began to feel his head clear.

He pushed himself up slowly until he came to sit, cross-legged, on the dirty floor in front of the mutilated basilisk corpse. It was a right mess and it took him a few confused blinks to realize that _he_ had done it all. It didn't seem possible.

Like it had to be some impossible dream.

It just didn't seem possible for _Harry_ to be powerful enough to do that level of damage to a thousand-year-old magical creature. It also didn't seem possible for anything to have ever felt that good. It was like it _had_ to be a dream. It just couldn't be real.

But it had been real.

He had done that. He had utterly lost himself to the magic, and the indescribable pleasure it had brought him. As his mind slowly began to work it's way around what had happened, more and more of him began to grow horrified by the whole thing.

Had that really been him?

Yes.

He couldn't put the blame for this on his companion. That had been all Harry. He knew that. The dark magic had been so good that he had utterly given in to it. He had wanted it to take over.

He still did.

A shuddering breath escaped him and he felt a shudder shoot down his spine, to land in the pit of his stomach with a delicious warm curling sensation, as the memory of the way the magic had _felt_ filled him again.

He lowered his head into his hands and fisted his hair tightly while he clenched his eyes shut.

What the hell was happening to him?

– –

Harry had tried to stay away from the Chamber for the next few days. He had really tried. He had even neglected his transformation exercises. He knew if he went back down there he would have to look at the basilisk corpse, and that would only remind him of how the dark magic had felt.

Was it supposed to do that to people? Supposed to have that strong an effect on a person? He had read a few summaries on dark magic in a few of his text books that made reference to dark magic addiction, but he had never expected it to be so strong, so instantly. And these weren't even very nasty spells. They were kind of mild in comparison to some of the others he'd seen in that book.

Despite all of Harry's efforts of will power, he now stood down in the chamber, looking at the devastated section of snake corpse, and yearning desperately to do it again, while also being absolutely terrified to do it.

_You must... face this... do not fear... it._ His companion's voice whispered in the back of Harry's mind. Harry flinched in surprise at it's sudden appearance.

His companion had been completely absent during his 'training session' a few nights previous. When Harry had escaped into his mindscape the previous night, he had wanted to steer clear of the whole incident. He was trying to relax and calm down, not dredge up his freaked out worries about the whole thing. And his companion had acquiesced to his desires and had not mentioned the event at all.

"_What do you mean?"_ Harry though in a shaky voice.

_The magic only... controls you... because it is new... you are unaccustomed... to it. It will control you... as long as you remain... this way..._

Harry bit his lip and looked down at the corpse that was currently tempting him.

"_But it was like I was insane... I... what do I do if I ever use that sort of magic out in a real battle and I lose myself? I'll end up killing someone and enjoy the whole damned thing... until I come down from my high later on and hate myself forever."_

_That is why... you must practice... you must gain control of it. To master the darkness within you... you must use the power. You must use it... learn to harness it's... intricacies... and make the power yours._

_Practicing it here... where you can harm no one... It is ideal, Harry. You... you can master your power here. Become master of your darkness... Make it thrive... inside you. Wield it and bend it... to YOUR will._

Harry was slowly nodding his head. He saw reason in that argument, and if it was true that practice would bring control, then it was worth it. He had to admit that another part of him was rejoicing with this new, valid excuse to keep using the magic. To keep feeling that thrill.

Harry tried to shove that insane gleefulness down and closed his eyes.

_I can help you..._ His companion's voice whispered through his mind, sending a shudder through him.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and nodded his head. The corners of his mouth turned up, and a fire lit behind his eyes. He was committed. He would do this.

And damn it. He was excited.

– –

Harry had begun to make a habit of checking for Moody and Crouch on the map, every time he used it. It didn't take long to determine that there was obviously something very screwy going on.

First and foremost, Moody _never_ left his office.

Literally. The dot beside the name Alastor Moody never moved an inch. The dot beside the name Bartemius Crouch, however was in the school almost all the time, which honestly, made no sense since the man was supposed to be a high-up ministry worker with a full-time job that did _not_ involve the school.

Bartemius Crouch spent an awful lot of time with Moody in his office, and also in Moody's classes.

Was Crouch pretending to be Moody? If he was, he was obviously using Polyjuice potion, which would explain why the man had been raiding Snape's storage room. But why the hell would Crouch be doing such a thing? Harry just couldn't work it out. It made no sense!

In any case, Harry was more than aware that the man he was looking at in class each week, was most likely _not_ Alastor Moody.

One day in class, the next week Harry even pulled out the map from under the lip of his desk, activated it, and checked. He looked up and at the head of the room, lecturing, was was _looked_ like 'Mad-Eye' Moody. But the dot on the map in the exact same spot said Bartemius Crouch.

It was just... bizarre! What was going on? And did anyone else know?

– –

It was now three weeks until the second task. That week would be his last dose of the accelerant potion, and Harry was looking forward to being done with all the potion nonsense.

Neville had spotted him taking his morning potions several times, since Neville had a similar morning schedule, and had no qualms about being in the bathroom at the same time as Harry. Dean and Seamus were still rather skittish about the whole thing, as far as bathroom time was considered, but at least they weren't being obnoxious about it.

Mostly just awkward.

Harry had been making considerable progress in his serpentine transformation. He'd managed to transform both of his legs into a single mass that melded together and then shifted into an extension of his spine, instead of hips and leg bones.

That had been an undeniably bizarre sensation, but he'd done it every day for the last four days and was beginning to feel accustomed to it.

He still hadn't completely absorbed his collarbone and arms, although they did get very small now. He was sure he was getting incredibly close to having the transformation complete.

Harry's dark arts practice had been going great. He'd managed to control his irrational _need_ to do it, as long as he was regular about it. He dedicated a whole hour to it every night, but no more than that. He even charmed a wrist watch so that when the hour was up, it began to get very very hot. If he didn't _stop_, the watch would continue to get hot until he _did_ stop. If he didn't stop soon enough, it would literally burn him. And quite badly.

But it had been effective at breaking him from his hazy intoxicated state the first few weeks of practice. Now he didn't need it, and as soon as the alarm sounded, he was able to regain control of himself and stop of his own will.

His companion stayed with him during most of his dark arts practice sessions. He didn't say much most of the time, but he would occasionally contribute little hints, or use some strong words or urges to get Harry to calm himself.

Harry still found that he absolutely _loved_ the way the magic felt when he used it. The feel of his dark magic well was just so much more delicious than his neutral magic well. It was also growing stronger.

His companion had been right when he had said that Harry needed to practice. The stronger his dark magic grew, the greater control he had over it.

He also noticed that his gray mottled mindscape was quickly changing it's appearance again. It now had a nights sky. Or at least that's how he imagined it. The ground plane was still gray, but much of the walls and the non-existent ceiling had begun to fade to pitch black.

The darkness was soothing.

His companion seemed to appreciate the change as well. He was able to spend longer periods of time in Harry's aware mind during the days now. He said it was much easier for him to tap into Harry's magic now.

Harry wasn't an idiot.

He knew what this meant.

His affinity had switched. Had his magical affinity really been so light before this all started, though? He had a hard time believing that. But his mindscape had been pure white. Wasn't that a representation of his affinity?

He was really only theorizing, but it seemed pretty glaringly obvious to him.

His magical affinity, which for some reason he couldn't fathom had already aligned with the light before, had managed to switch to the dark, during the last four months.

And he couldn't quite find it in himself to care.

He liked it better this way.

–

Harry made his way to breakfast following behind Ron and Neville. It was Friday and he was both looking forward to, and dreading his last dose of the potion the next night. His mind was busy mulling over the spells he planned to practice that night in the chamber, so he sat down at the Gryffindor table and began to pile food onto his plate on auto-pilot.

"Hermione...? Are... are you alright?" Ginny's voice broke in through Harry's haze and he glanced up, looking between the two with a blank, confused face.

Hermione sniffed once, before quickly mastering her expression, sticking her nose into the air and locking her jaw.

"I'm fine," she said, tersely.

Harry was _really_confused now. He looked back and forth between Ginny and Hermione, trying to figure out what was going on. It was at that point that he saw the two copies of Witch Weekly that were lain out on the table in front of Ginny and Hermione. He scowled down at the magazine. He couldn't make out the cover, but he clearly saw a picture of Krum from the last task, scowling and then ducking out of the border. The byline also clearly said "Rita Skeeter" under the article's title.

"What has Skeeter done now?" Harry asked in a tightly restrained growl.

Ginny glanced over at Harry and then back at Hermione, hesitantly, as if she was afraid to answer the question.

"She, er... wrote a pretty nasty story about Hermione and Krum," Ginny said, giving Hermione an apologetic look.

Ron's head came up now and he looked at the group of them with an annoyed scowl. "What about _Krum,_" Ron said through a mouthful of food.

"Don't even start, Ron," Ginny hissed angrily. "Not now."

He shot his sister an indignant expression and narrowed his eyes down at the newspaper. He literally sneered down at the photo of Krum before returning his focus to his food.

Harry heard Hermione stifle another sniffle and could see the masked pain in her eyes. He looked down at the offending paper and he felt his anger beginning to boil. He was actually surprised by the intensity of the emotion, considering how little he actually _liked_ any of his once-friends' company these days. They had become a means to a goal, and the goal was was to remain under the radar of the general student populace, and the faculty. As long as he was friendly and he socialized on occasion, and he seemed outwardly happy more often than not, people wouldn't suspect that he'd begun practicing dark magic in Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber.

But still, he hadn't lost all of his old protectiveness of them. Besides, they were _his_, and anything that the vile Skeeter whore did that was in some way tied to him, made him angry. He would protect what was his.

Harry reached out and made to grab Ginny's copy of Witch Weekly, but Hermione reached out and snatched it away first, causing Harry to growl and glare angrily at her for a moment before he managed to mask his reaction. Fortunately, Hermione was refusing to make eye contact, so she didn't see the fury that flashed across his face.

"You don't need to read it," she said sharply, while staring at the table.

Harry's fumed internally and the angry monster in his gut began to growl and hiss loudly, but he held it in check.

"What. Did. She. Say?" Harry said in slow, controlled words as he fought to keep the beast at bay.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said as she finally made eye contact.

Harry held her gaze for a long uncomfortable minute. Finally Harry forced himself to push the anger away. He could just get a hold of the paper later on his own to find out what the cow had said. Hermione was clearly embarrassed by it.

"Fine," he said as he turned his attention down to his plate and stabbed his eggs with his fork rather forcefully.

–

"Harry? Can I talk to you?" Hermione's voice called out to him as he entered the portrait hole that night. At that moment, Harry was in the process of coming down from his dark magic high, and usually begged off from 'exhaustion' the second he got back from the chamber. His temper was always a bit skewed after his training and he didn't think he could keep his mask on properly in that state.

So, understandably, Harry was considerably hesitant to agree to her request. However something in Hermione's tone made him sigh – mostly in frustration – and concede.

"Yeah, sure, 'Mione. What's up?" He said as he turned to face her and pulled on the most convincing caring mask he could muster, given his current mental state.

"You know how you couldn't figure out how Rita Skeeter managed to find out about you being... gay?"

"Yeah?" Harry said with mild exasperation.

"You and Fleur talked about it after the ball, but there was no one there, right?"

"Right," Harry replied shortly. He really didn't have the patience for her to be beating around the bush like this. If she didn't get to the point soon, he was liable to snap at her.

"Well some of the things that she said in that... article about... me... there's no way she could have known those things. No way. No one else was there, and I've asked Viktor and he has no idea how she found out either. He was incredibly furious. I _know_ he wouldn't have said anything."

"So what you're saying is that Skeeter must have some secret way of eavesdropping on us?" Harry said impatiently, trying to get this over with quickly.

"Exactly!"

Harry took a moment to breath, trying to push away his irritation with her. He had already figured this, but she had a point. He would have to keep his eye on it more.

"Well, she's banned from the castle. Dumbledore banned her after the first task. But I'll start checking for her name on the map. See if she's sneaking into the castle under an invisibility cloak, or a disillusionment charm. But she might be using someone else to do her spying for her."

"Do you think she could be using the paintings or a ghost as well?"

Harry shook his head. "The paintings wouldn't help her. They're loyal to the headmaster. The ghosts too, except for Peeves, but I would have spotted him if he had been anywhere around when Fleur and I were talking."

"And Viktor and I weren't even in the school for one of the times that she would have had to eavesdrop on us."

"Where were you?"

She blushed. "Out by the lake. Under that willow tree."

"Ah," Harry said, nodding his head in understanding. That was a pretty well known location to go for a good snogging. "Well the map doesn't show me the grounds, only inside the castle, but I'll keep my eyes open."

Hermione bobbed her head in agreement. "Alright. I'll keep my eyes open too," she hesitated for a moment before looking back up at Harry. "Thank you Harry."

"Don't mention it."

– –

Sunday afternoon at half past noon, Harry 'woke' from his final session with the accelerant potion. He stood in front of the full-length standing mirror and admired the results of his hard work and suffering.

In comparison to what he looked like at the start of the school year, he was now a solid seven inches taller. His shoulders were considerably broader and firmly muscled with surprisingly defined deltoids. His forearms felt and looked solid now instead of the frail bony appendages he once had. His legs were similarly well defined now, as well.

His ribcage, hip bones, and spine were no longer visible on casual inspection. He was lithe and he liked what he saw.

He smirked into the mirror as he turned from side to side eying his reflection.

"Well, I'd fuck me," he said, jokingly to his reflection before snickering loudly. He looked older than fourteen now. He could easily pass for sixteen, in fact.

The changes had happened gradually over the last two months, and as far as he could tell, no one at school had made note of the rather drastic changes. However, he was pretty sure that anyone who hadn't seen him on a day to day basis would notice how extreme his 'growth spurt' had been.

Still, he didn't care. Magical growth spurts weren't unheard of. And he could always argue that he was well past due for one.

Finally, he sighed happily and pulled on a shirt and then his robes. As a reward, he was going to head straight up to Gryffindor Tower and go take a much needed nap.

– –

_He drew his wand and aimed it at the target dummy he had conjured. It was getting easier and easier to access his magic, even in his ridiculously pathetic vessel. His power was growing in leaps and bounds and he was becoming more and more anxious and excited for his final resurrection._

_He called forth his magic and it responded with growing ease. It was still reluctant to answer the his call with this pathetic body as the intermediate, but he was strong. It would answer his will._

_He mentally incanted the spell and the orange jagged light shot out of the tip of his wand and exploded against the dummy. _

_He cackled at the dark euphoria. He had missed this feeling. Almost as much as his books._

_He threw another curse, and then another and another in fast succession. The magic flowed through him and around him as he effortlessly commanded it to suit his will. _

_His endurance was still rather pathetic, and his vessel grew weary far too soon for his liking, but he had made progress._

_He called his levitating chair to him, climbed up into it, and sighed as he finally allowed his limbs to relax. He guided the chair into the study but instead of heading to the desk, he went over to the large windows and with a flick of his hand, the curtains were drawn back and bright sunlight beamed inside. The warmth against his skin was a relief. The manor was too drafty, more often than not._

_There was a great yard and an untended, overgrown garden below the window. He was on the second floor, and the manor was atop a hill. From his vantage point he could look out and see Little Hangleton in the distance._

_A hissing sound from behind him brought a smile curling upon his lipless face. Nagini climbed up onto the sill of the window and he shifted in his chair so that his small bony hand could reach out and touch her. He hummed in contentment at the soft feel of her scales beneath her fingers. She hissed back in pleasure, happy to be at her master's side and told him so. She also told him that she was hungry and wished he would allow her to visit the local town's park so she could eat one of the younglings who played there._

_He chuckled, but told her that she would have to limit her diet to the creatures in the nearby woods. She sulked but didn't press the matter._

_§Ah, love, I know you are bored and frustrated here. I am as well. But soon, we will be free to leave this place and I can finally resume my work,§ he hissed to her as he lovingly ran his fingers over her head._

– –

It was three weeks until the task and Harry was currently racing from the second floor corridor, down the grand staircase, and towards the entry hall. He had a triumphant grin across his face as he ran.

He had done it.

He had finally completely succeeded at his first serpentine transformation. He could turn into a huge sea snake, and do it at will with ease. He'd got the transformation time down to less than a minute and finally felt like he was ready to try it out in the water.

He had three weeks to practice actually swimming in that damned freezing lake, and making use of the warming and bubble-head charms. He was fairly confident that it would be enough time, but he was anxious to get started.

He escaped the castle and began to jog down the grounds towards the lake when he came across Hagrid coming out of the forbidden forest followed immediately by young golden-colored unicorn foal. Harry grinned, feeling a wave of relief that his Care of Magical Creature's course had finally started covering creatures that weren't constantly trying to eat him. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the blast-ended skrewts.

Hagrid grinned at him and waved cheerily. Harry chuckled and waved back but kept on running. He reached the shore of the lake and began to make his way around it until he had reached a section far enough away from the castle, and with a thick enough collection of trees nearby to hide him from anyone who might be watching.

He reached out with his magic, searching for any nearby magical auras, just in case that Skeeter whore was around under an invisibility cloak or something, but he sensed nothing.

He stripped down to his boxers, which was horrifying since it was bloody _February_, and it was _COLD!_ He quickly cast a warming spell on himself and instantly sighed in relief as a magical barrier surrounded his whole body, creating a small pocket of warmth. Next he swirled his wand around his face, casting the bubble-head charm directly over his mouth and nose.

He gave a few test breaths to make sure the bubble was actually working. When he was convinced the charm was performing as it should be, he steeled himself and jumped into the lake.

Warming charm or no, it was still really bloody cold. But it was just _cold_, not the icy-freezing-suffering-pain that he was sure it would be without the charm.

He let himself sink down as far as his body would allow, given natural buoyancy, and began to focus on the transformation.

He held his legs down straight below him and felt as they magically melded together. His arms tingled uncomfortably as they shrunk down into nothing but vestigial limbs. His skull shrunk and streamlined, his jaw structure changed and he felt his hinged fangs grow in. A moment later, he was a long, large serpent. A streamlined mass of muscle and strength. He gave a quick test breath from the bubble and could tell it was still in place and still working. His lungs could hold enough oxygen to last him twenty minutes underwater, but he would still want to ration his air since he was using a small bubble over his smaller snake face, and would need it to last an hour during the actual task.

He opened his eyes, but kept his secondary set of eyelids closed to protect his pupils. His underwater vision was impressive and he would have grinned smugly, if he had been capable of it in this form.

He gave a few experimental swishes of his strong powerful body and began to practice swimming.

There was a modicum of instinct that was working for him, but he was still going to have to _learn_ most of it the hard way. Which also meant practice.

–

The one-to-two hours each night that Harry had previously dedicated to trying to master his transformation was now moved to the afternoon and used to practice swimming. After a few days, he added in practice using the locator spell in his snake form, as well.

Since he couldn't exactly hide things in the lake himself, he started using the spell to locate different creatures that he knew should be in the lake already.

Most of the time he just located the giant squid, but he located the merfolk's village, and a large colony of grindylows, as well.

Nothing down there was ever the slightest bit suspicious of him – although several things were quite wary and steered clear of him. As far as any could tell, he was just a very large water snake.

While Harry would have thought that the present of a large snake would be an unlikely occurrence in a Scotland loch in the dead of winter, nothing else in the lake seemed to think so. But the more time he spent down there, the more he became aware that the Black Lake was filled with a large array of very strange and inexplicable things.

His excursions down there were proving to be quite effective, and he was now able to zip his way through it's many nastier obstacles without any hindrance. He wasn't sure if it would really be that easy during the actual task, but at least he felt like he had a good handle on the lake's underwater terrain.

After the first week of practice, he reduced his time spent in the lake to one hour, three times a week, just to keep in good form.

He had been falling behind in his homework lately since he had been putting so much of his efforts towards his preparation for the task, and into his private studies of the dark arts. He had a lot to catch up on, and began to use his now increased free time to work on his back log.

– –

"I want to try something a little different today," Moody said as he came to stand beside his desk and leaned his weight on the corner to allow his fake leg to rest. He looked out over the class of forth year students and smirked.

"Who can tell me the most important difference between an experienced dark wizard, and an inexperienced one?"

The class looked around and quiet murmurs could be heard, but no one raised their hand at first. Hesitantly Seamus rose his.

"Mr. Finnigan," Moody said, nodding his chin towards Seamus.

"Uh, an inexperienced dark wizard won't know as many spells as an experienced one?"

"Well, that is true, but it's not the most _important_ difference. Anyone else?"

"An inexperienced wizard will make more mistakes in an actual battle?" Hermione asked.

"Again true, but that could be said for any experienced wizard versus an inexperienced one. I'm talking _specifically_ about a dark wizard. Anyone?"

Hesitantly, Harry rose his hand.

"Mr. Potter," Moody called out.

"An inexperienced dark wizard won't have control of the dark magic yet. The magic will still be controlling _him_."

Moody looked impressed and smirked.

"Correct, Mr. Potter!" Moody pushed himself up off the corner of the desk and began his rough pacing. "But is that truly an advantage, or a disadvantage?"

"It depends on how powerful the dark wizard in question is," Harry said.

"Oh?" Moody asked, curiosity and interest shining in his eyes.

"Well... if the wizard had a really large magical power well to draw from, starts using dark spells, and gets lost in the dark madness, they may just go berserk and start blowing up and slaughtering everything in range.

"They may be easier to take out because they're not necessarily thinking defensively, or using a strategy, but you have to be able to dodge and counter their spells to begin with, and you may not have the time or opportunity if they're already gone. At least an experienced dark wizard who has control of their dark magic won't be so wasteful of their power. But they'll also be thinking clearly enough to employ a strategy and counter any attacks you make. So... it depends."

Moody grinned widely. "That's right, Mr. Potter! Twenty points to Gryffindor."

–

"Where did you learn that, Harry? None of that was in any of our defense text books," Hermione said in a flustered, frustrated tone as they walked down the corridor towards the grand staircase.

"Er, it was in one of the books I owl-ordered on my own, I think," Harry said dismissively.

"Really? Can I borrow it?" Hermione said, looking bright and excited.

"Uhm... I'll see if I can remember which one it was from and dig it out sometime," Harry said, hoping that he could just put it off until she had forgotten about it.

"That would be fantastic, Harry. I was really fascinated by Professor Moody's lecture today. I've never heard anyone explain the psychology behind a dark wizard, or the biology of how the magic effects their body, like that before," Hermione gushed.

"Yeah, but what was all that rubbish about endolphins and stuff?" Ron asked. "I couldn't make heads or tails of any of it!"

Harry and Hermione both looked at him with frustrated disbelief.

"They're called _endorphins_ Ron, not _dolphins._" Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Yeah, well I don't know what _that_ is either," Ron grumbled bitterly.

Hermione turned to face Harry, apparently having decided to pretend Ron hadn't said something exceedingly idiotic... again. "Anyway, I thought it was an incredibly fascinating lesson. I'd never heard that using dark magic effected the nervous system like that before, but it's really useful to know, actually. The fact that the dynorphins and enkephalins in the spinal cord and peripheral nervous system that dampen and slow pain nerves are triggered by the dark magic is huge!"

"Huh? How so? And what the ruddy hell does any of that even mean!" Ron said, cutting back in.

"It means that using a lot of dark magic triggers the body's natural pain dampening systems. What _that_ means is that a dark wizard could get hit with some pretty nasty curses and hexes but not really feel a thing till much later. They'll be able to just keep on fighting."

"Oh... that's... bad," Ron said looking painfully thoughtful.

"But what I thought was really fascinating is the fact that repeated use of dark magic causes a surge of endorphins in the hypothalamus! It's no wonder that so many dark wizards are sadists! They _literally_ feel pleasure when they cast really nasty dark curses at people! The magic makes them feel a euphoric high. It's really kind of sick, but it's also really fascinating."

Harry had to fight against the sneer that tried to pull itself across his lips, but managed to force it down into a grimace.

"But what does that endolphins in the hypopotamus mean?" Ron asked in a frustrated whine.

"Ron, please don't... don't even try to say it," Hermione said, shaking her head and rubbing her index fingers against her temple.

"Well, you know what I mean!"

Hermione huffed. "It stimulates the reward pathways of the brain, giving the person a sense of euphoria and pleasure."

"Oh... well you could have just said that."

"I did!"

"No, you said –"

After that, Harry just tuned them out. He was already _aware_ of all this. He'd been reading up on dark magic for months now. It's not like it mattered anyway. He grumbled in annoyance and hurried his pace towards the great hall. Maybe some food would distract him.

– –


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

It was three days till the second task and Harry actually felt _excited, _which part of him thought was probably odd_._ He felt as ready as he could ever be, and was honestly just anxious to get it over with. He also wondered what the hell the third task was going to be, and whether or not it was going to require as much preparation time as the second task had.

Harry was sitting in transfiguration, working on writing out his essay that was technically homework that he wasn't supposed to start working on until after class. But the rest of the class was practicing the current in-class practical spell, while he had performed it easily on his first try. He rarely saw any point in sitting around repeatedly transforming tea-cups into pillows or other such nonsense for a whole class period when he was in no need of the practice, and could be using that time to get some of his homework done instead.

McGonagall had disapproved of his actions at first, but it had been about two months now, and she rarely made a fuss anymore. He could always prove that he could do the practical spell, the moment she asked him to demonstrate it, and he was getting his homework done. She could hardly fault him for that.

Harry was scratching away at his parchment when he felt McGonagall's presence beside him. Expecting that she was going to ask him to demonstrate the spell, he set down his quill and picked up his wand and wordlessly transfigured the guinea fowl on his desk into a guinea pig. The moment he was done, he dropped his wand and picked his quill back up to resume his essay.

"That's all well and good, Mr. Potter, but I was acting wanting to ask you to remain after class. I need to discuss something important with you," McGonagall said.

Harry looked up at her and blinked in confusion. He nodded his head hesitantly and agreed. She walked away to continue making rounds and checking on everyone's progress.

"What do you think she wants?" Hermione whispered as she leaned across the aisle towards Harry.

He glanced up at her a shrugged. "No clue."

Twenty minutes later, class was over and everyone had just finished evacuating the room. Harry and McGonagall were the only ones left, and Harry was in the process of packing up the last of his things.

"My office, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said as she strode down the aisle towards the door. Harry frowned a bit, but quickly followed after her.

"Have I done something wrong, Professor?" He asked, warily as he trailed after.

She looked back at him with a moments confusion before her face softened. "Oh no. Not at all. But I have something important that we need to discuss and work out."

Harry was filled with a moment of relief, but then he wondered what on earth they needed to 'work out'.

They entered her office and McGonagall sat down in the straight-backed chair behind her desk and motioned for Harry to sit in the chair opposite it.

"Tell me exactly what you have determined about the second task," she said as she folded her hands on her desk.

Harry blinked. "Uh, well, it's going to be in the Black Lake. Something is going to be taken from me, and I'll have one hour to go find it."

"Correct. Normally we would not disclose this detail, but we are in a bit of a conundrum at the moment and I feel I have little choice. The _something_ that will be taken is supposed to be a person. Someone who is very close and important to you. We performed the ceremony last night with the goblet to determine who would be taken for each of the four champions."

"Oh?" Harry responded, trying to mask his emotions. They were a mixture of excitement, curiosity, confusion, and a bit of concern as to why she was telling him this when Bagman had said that who they took from him was supposed to remain a secret.

"Yes. We encountered a problem."

"What is it?"

"The cup would not return a name for you. The paper it sent out always remained blank."

Harry frowned. "Oh...kay. So what does that mean?"

"We theorize that perhaps whatever _confundus_ spell was used to trick the cup into accepting your name in the first place has not been sufficient enough to also make it choose someone for you to save."

_Or maybe there isn't anyone at this stupid school that I give a damn about enough to go into the lake for them. And the goblet knows it._ Harry thought sardonically.

"In any case, we are left having to choose someone for it."

Harry shrugged. "Alright. That doesn't seem to be a big deal. Just pick someone."

"Miss Granger is unavailable because she has been chosen for Mr. Krum. As an alternative, we were going to choose Mr. Weasley," she finished with her words trailing off hesitantly.

Harry looked thoughtful for a minute and then shook his head. "You can't use him. If Krum's person is Hermione, everyone will think that Ron is my person because I fancy him or something."

"That is what we were concerned about as well," McGonagall said.

"It would end up in the Prophet. No doubt about that. Skeeter would fabricate some huge best-mate boy-love nonsense. Ron would be teased mercilessly, and he would probably start getting all weird, wondering if I really _do _fancy him or something."

"Exactly," McGonagall said nodding her head. "So do you have an alternative suggestion?"

"You're going to let me _choose?_" he asked in surprise.

"You can make a suggestion," she said.

For a brief moment, Harry considered asking for Malfoy, simply because it would be hilarious. The idea of Draco being pulled into his Daily Prophet gossip woes brought a wicked grin to his lips. And the taunting and teasing that Malfoy would receive from it would be worth every weird look Harry would get from his fellow Gryffindors.

But he knew McGonagall would see through it, and never go for it.

So he let his mind wander to other alternatives.

It couldn't be a guy. Anyone taken who was male would immediately bring up the idea that Harry fancied them. End of story. So it had to be a girl, but Hermione was already taken by Krum.

Harry's brow's rose and he grinned. "Ginny."

"Miss Weasley?"

Harry nodded. "Yup. Ginny."

"Alright, Mr. Potter. Thank you for you time. You can go now."

– –

The next morning a familiar little owl showed up shortly after breakfast. It was unusual for a post owl to show up at any time outside of breakfast, but seeing as how Harry recognized this specific owl, he wasn't the least bit surprised.

"Is that Sir – er, _Snuffle's_ owl?" Ron gasped as he saw Harry removing the letter from the owl's leg.

"It is," Harry nodded. He was wondering if Sirius's reply would respond to any of his observations about Snape and Karkaroff, and the dark mark, and suddenly realized that he had never actually told Ron or Hermione about any of it. They would probably expect him to read the letter to them, and if it _did_mention it, they would wonder why he had kept that hidden from them.

However all of his worries were proved for naught when he opened the letter and found it only had a single line of text printed on it.

"_Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl."_

Harry blinked and then frowned at it.

Hermione, who had been leaning over his shoulder to read the letter made a curious noise in her throat.

"What do you think that's about?" Ron asked in a bewildered tone.

"I don't know," Hermione said frowning.

"Sounds to me like he plans to pay us a visit," Harry said looking dubiously down at the letter in his hands.

Hermione gasped. "He wouldn't! It's not safe!"

Harry shook his head and sighed. "I imagine he probably would, if he felt it was important enough. Anyway, I guess I'd better reply," he said as he looked over at Sirius's owl, that was sitting and waiting rather impatiently for a response.

"The next Hogsmeade weekend is the weekend after next," Hermione supplied quickly as Harry dug into his bag for a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Thanks," he said as he jotted down the quick response and attached it to the owl's leg.

– –

The morning of the task arrived. It would begin at 9:30am, and classes were canceled for the entire day. Harry and Ron went to breakfast together an hour before the task was scheduled to begin. Ron kept looking around with a curious frown on his face, and finally he turned to Harry and spoke.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah, Ron?" Harry said, not looking up from the book he was currently reading while he ate.

"Where's Hermione? And for that matter... where's Ginny?"

Harry looked up blankly at Ron and shrugged. "Dunno." He quickly went back to the book.

"Is that for the task or something?" Ron asked after a quiet minute.

"Hmm?"

"That book. Are you reading it for some last minute preparation?"

"No. Just reading it," Harry said distractedly.

"Are you _joking?_" Ron exclaimed.

Harry looked up reluctantly and rose a single questioning eyebrow at the ginger.

"How can you be _just reading_ some book when you've got to go swim through the lake in forty minutes! And you're eating! You never had the stomach to eat before Quidditch matches before. You always said the nerves were too much. But here you are, sitting all calm, _reading some bloody book_, like it was any normal, boring day of the week."

Harry sat there, shooting Ron a flat, slightly annoyed, look during the ginger's triad.

"Are you done?"

Ron scowled.

"I've got the task handled. I'm not stressed out over it because I feel pretty damn prepared for this one. I've had _months_ to prep for it, and I think I've got a good solid strategy. At this point, I'm feeling more annoyed impatience than nerves. I just want to get it over with. _Reading_ is distracting me, and keeping my mind off of how frustrated I feel at having to do this _at all."_

Ron grumbled and looked away, slightly abashed.

They finished their breakfast and Harry went off to Gryffindor tower to change clothes. He had transfigured himself a pair of swimming trunks and then pulled his school robe on over top.

By the time he left the castle and began to cross the grounds towards the lake, it was 9:15am.

The stands that had been placed in a large circle around the dragon enclosure for the first task had now been placed all along one side of the shore of the Black Lake. They were also _packed_ with people.

Harry wondered how much of a show these people were expecting to get, since all four champions would be deep beneath the murky depths for an hour.

Once again, he wondered if there was some sort of monitoring spell to allow the spectators to know what was going on in the lake, but Bagman had said that there wasn't going to be one, and he could only hope that was true.

Harry walked over and joined the other three champions who were gathering near the judges table. The three headmasters were all seated there, but instead of Mr. Crouch, his assistant, Percy Weasley was seated there. Harry frowned at this. He darted his eyes around, looking for any sign of 'Moody', but didn't see him either.

Thinking back, he had seen _both_ Crouch and Moody at the first task though. So maybe Crouch didn't start impersonating Moody until more recently?

Harry sighed and shook his head. He didn't like not knowing what was going on with that.

Ludo Bagman came up, looking excitedly at the four champions. "Is everyone ready, then?" he asked, grinning.

Harry looked over at the others for the first time then. Fleur looked nervous and when their eyes met he gave her a reassuring smile.

She grinned at him, and it appeared that a small amount of tension left her for a moment.

Cedric was giving off a determined air, but Harry could see the older boy's hands shake a bit before he clenched them into tight fists.

Krum was glowering at the lake as if it were a beast he was set to tackle. Harry supposed it sort of was. It was certainly filled with beasts.

"Alright then, lets get everyone lined up," Bagman said as he began to herd the four of them towards the shore. He placed them at ten foot intervals from each other, and they each began to prepare. Fleur took off her robes to reveal a one-piece swim suit, which illicited some rude catcalls from the stands. Fleur turned and glared angrily in the general direction the sound had come from.

Krum was already standing in nothing more than a pair of swimming trunks, and looked perfectly fine with the temperature. Harry wondered if he had already cast a warming charm on himself.

Cedric slipped off his outer robes to reveal a pair of trunks and a tank-top. He shivered visibly and ran his hands up and down his exposed arms.

Harry sighed and pulled off his robes as well. Instantly the chill hit him, but he was pretty used to it by now. It was nicer that day than it had been for the previous week, _however_ it was currently 9:25 am, and he usually did his swim training in the afternoon when the day had had some time to warm up.

Fleur looked his way again with a soft smile, but it stilled and her eyes widened for a moment. Harry watched as her eyes trailed up and down his lithe form with a surprisingly appreciative look. Harry almost laughed. Instead he rose a single, cocky, questioning eyebrow at her. When she realized she'd been caught gawking, she actually _blushed!_

Harry laughed and she rolled her eyes at him. But she _was_ now smiling rather genuinely now, so if nothing else, he had at least distracted her from some of her nerves.

Bagman returned to the stands by the judges table and brought his wand up to his neck, as he had at the Quidditch World Cup and said "_Sonorus!"_ and his voice boomed out across the dark water towards the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One... two... _three!"_

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air and the stands erupted with cheers and applause.

Harry gripped his wand in his hand and cast the warming charm first. He was desperately relieved the moment it took effect and his shivers could stop. Next he cast the small bubble-head charm over his face, and then promptly dropped his wand on the folded pile of robes. He wouldn't need it and it would transform with him so he wouldn't even be able to hold it.

Still, the abandonment of his wand apparently bewildered quite a few people because he could hear a lot of murmuring in the section of stands behind him.

He ignored it and took off into the water at a quick pace. The lake had a gradual incline at this portion, instead of the steeper drop off he was used to from the side of the lake he usually trained from. This meant that he had to wait longer – until he reached a deep enough section of water to dive deep – to do his actual transformation.

He waded his way as quickly as he could manage until it got deep enough that the water was up to his chest. Finally he plunged under the surface and began to swim forward.

He had gotten a fair distance from the shore and had gone down into the muddy silt before he finally felt safe in performing his transformation. He'd done it so many times now that it felt like second nature and only took a few seconds to complete.

As a sea snake Harry had a paddle-like tail at the very tip and his body was laterally compressed slightly, but not much. It almost gave him a slight eel-like appearance, except that he was extremely thick, and about 9 feet long.

His body was black and white striped, with a mostly black head, except for a small area of white on the top of his head and snout.

His bright silvery-white stripes didn't exactly provide him with good camouflage in the dark, green, murky depths of the lake, but his three weeks of training in it had taught him that most things would avoid him just because it was a great, thick, 9 foot long snake.

The moment his transformation was complete he shot forward into the depths of the lake to get as far from the shore as he could manage, as fast as possible. He was soon calling forth his parselmagic and starting the locator spell. He grinned internally, thankful that he knew exactly who he was supposed to be looking for thanks to the cup's inability to provide the headmaster's with a name.

He told the great black snake to find Ginny, and it quickly began to dart in the direction of the merfolk's village.

Just as Harry was swimming through the long green weeds that he knew housed a large group of grindylows he heard the reverberated watery echoes of the nasty little water demons as they swarmed something. He was about to ignore it and move on, thankful that _he_ wasn't the one being attacked, when he heard the garbled, bubbled yelp of Fleur.

He called his locator snake to stop and wait for him and turned to swim in the direction he sensed the commotion from.

Fleur was struggling in the long grassy weeds as a grindylow held on tight to her ankle. Another reached up and clutched it's long fingers around her other leg and bared it's pointed fangs.

She was pointing her wand at them, and probably trying to cast some non-verbal spells, but it was obvious that she was having trouble focusing in her panicked state.

Two more grindylows appeared out of the weeds and grabbed and clawed at her arms and hair. They began to amass around her and pull her down as she struggled and panicked.

Harry darted through the water with his serpentine speed and opened his mouth, baring his fangs at the nasty little creatures. Once they spotted him coming, they began to panic and the first few dispersed within an instant. Fleur looked shocked and then relieved as she was released from some of her demonic captors... and then she saw Harry.

Her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened to scream. The sound echoed strangely through her bubble-head charm. Two of the remaining grindylows saw Harry and squealed in terror. One bared it's fangs at Harry, and dug it's claws into Fleur's arm. She began to renew her struggle against the beasts, all the while keeping her terrified eyes trained on Harry's enormous serpentine form.

Harry darted forward and snapped his jaws around one of the little monsters, sinking his short fangs into it's side. It screamed a horrible high-pitched noise and struggled against him. He tossed it aside with a flick of his head and set his sights on one of the others. One look from him, and the remaining grindylows gave up and ran.

Fleur now had her wand trained on Harry and looked to be on the brink of sobs.

Harry blinked at her and then turned away, swimming back in the direction he had left his locator spell.

Harry renewed the spell and followed the black serpent that only he could see, directly towards the merfolk's village.

He passed the large rock with 'painting's on it, depicting what looked like merfolk carrying spears, fighting the giant squid. He snickered at it and keep moving forward, towards the village. A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly and Harry could see faces peering out from the windows, hesitantly watching him.

A few of the merfolk had seen him during his training the last tree weeks, but he doubted any of them realized he was actually one of the competitors.

He swam his way through the center of town, still following his black locator snake until it came to stop, coiling around a great carved stone statue of a merperson with four people bound tightly to it's tail.

Ginny was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. The last person was a young girl – probably no older than eight or nine – with long silvery blond hair. Harry assumed she had to be Fleur's sister or something. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep, and a fine stream of bubbles kept issues from their mouths.

The merpeople were gathering now, and surround the statue was a rather large group of them, all carry those unpleasantly sharp spears of theirs.

Harry swam quickly, straight for the statue and the merfolk eyed him warily. They were all whispering to each other, animatedly, curiosity and concern in their eyes. Harry approached cautiously, half-expecting them to start attacking him. But they didn't. He went straight for Ginny and eyed her restraints. She was tied with a thick heavy rope, and he grumbled slightly. Not that it wasn't something he could handle, but he was probably going to have to transform back into a human to deal with it.

Heaving an internal sigh, he began to revert his transformation. Seconds later, he was human again, and the merfolk seemed utterly stunned. He cautiously tested the bubble-head charm and was relieved to get reliable breath of air from it. It was shrinking through, so he couldn't stay in a human form for too long like this.

He focused on the ropes and pointed his fingers at them while calling forth his parselmagic and hissing out a weak severing curse. He sliced through the bindings, one at a time until there was nothing left holding Ginny to the statue and she began to float freely.

Harry paused and looked over at Hermione's floating form. He had no idea where the others were, but he was fairly confident that Krum would come for her. Even if the others didn't make in the hour time limit, he knew there was no way Dumbledore would actually allow anyone down here to drown.

So he turned back to Ginny. He summoned a piece of long reedy grass and transfigured it into a rope, all through parselmagic. The merfolk were still watching him with intense fascination, as he worked at tying it around Ginny's waist. Finally, he transformed back into his sea serpent form, grabbed the end of the rope in his mouth and began to haul her out of the village.

He knew his way back to the shore from here, so he didn't need to bother with the locator spell again.

As the ground became closer to the surface, and Harry knew he was growing near the shore, he transformed back into his human form and started swimming up to the surface, with the unconscious Ginny still in tow behind him. He broke through the surface of the water, and pulled in a great gasp of breath.

The moment they broke through the surface, whatever spell was on Ginny seemed to cease because she proceeded to cough out a mouth full of water and then blink at him owlishly.

"Hey Gin, you alright?" Harry asked.

"Uh... yeah?" she said weakly. He chuckled and began to paddle towards the shore with her, still in tow.

They climbed out of the water, freezing and dripping wet. The stands were cheering uproariously, and a small crowd of people were heading their way. Madam Pomfrey was racing straight for them with large fluffy towels. Percy Weasley looked remarkably pale and stunned to see his baby sister coming out of the freezing water and he rushed over to her.

Dumbledore was beaming at Harry, and Harry had for force a smile onto his face as he looked into his headmaster's eyes. The powerful, deep seeded _loathing_ was still there, and still as powerful as ever, but he couldn't let it show.

"Well done, Harry! Well done!" Ludo Bagman was saying as he came over and clapped Harry on the back. Harry grinned weakly at the man and walked over to the spot where he'd left his robes and his wand. Madam Pomfrey was forcing a towel on him while he gathered his things. He took it, but didn't bother wrapping himself with it at first. Instead he cast a non-verbal drying charm on himself, and then renewed the warming charm. Another charm later and his hair was dry too. He pulled his robes back on, looked at the towel, and then handed it to Ginny instead.

"Thanks Harry," she said, ducking her head a little. "That was really brilliant. You saved me, and you came in first!" she exclaimed, looking up now.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's not like Dumbledore would have let any of you actually get hurt down there, so I don't see how I 'saved' you, per se. I'm sorry you had to get dragged into this actually."

"Oh it's alright. It's kind of exciting, really. Although, admittedly, I am really really cold," she said, chuckling. Percy was standing beside her and frowning. Whenever he did bother a glance Harry's way, he actually _scowled._

Harry rolled his eyes. _Stupid prat._

"Here, let me help with that," Harry said as he raised his wand and pointed it at her. First he dried her clothes, which took two separate drying charms, and then a third for her hair. He finished it all off with another simple warming charm.

She blinked and looked down at herself with obvious surprise.

"Blimey, Harry! That was brilliant!" she beamed. "I didn't know you could perform wordless spells! What was all that?"

"Just _foveo_ and _exaresco_. Nothing special. And I've been practicing non-verbal spells for a while now."

Percy actually looked mildly impressed, but clearly he didn't want Harry to know that because he turned his attention back to Ginny and asked her if she was really alright, for about the dozenth time in the last four minutes.

Harry sighed and made his way to a small tent with some chairs that had been set up for the champions. He sat down to wait for the others to finish, and wished suddenly that he'd actually brought his book with him.

Quite a few people in the stands were still quite animated with chatter about Harry's return, but many of them had reverted to a state of bored impatience. Harry snickered. Bagman was right about this not being a very entertaining event for spectators.

He was relieved to see that there were no magical devices, or anything else set up to relay what the champions were doing under the water. Sure, it meant it was boring for those standing around waiting, but it also meant that no one would know about his sea snake transformation.

Another ten minutes passed before Cedric Diggory broke the surface with a sputtering Cho Chang in toe. Five more minutes after them, and what looked like a shark exploded from the water. It turned out it was only a shark _head, _and the body of Viktor Krum. His head morphed and twisted as he reversed the half-completed transfiguration, and Hermione came bobbing to the surface looking like a drowned cat. Harry snickered.

Harry was growing a tad worried that Fleur still hadn't made an appearance several minutes later when the French Veela finally showed up with her little sister in her arms.

Harry watched as Dumbledore walked over to the waters edge to meet with one of the merpeople. She was a rather wild and ferocious-looking female, and the old headmaster actually started making the same ear piercing screechy sounds that she was, and the two of them were apparently talking. So, Harry supposed, that meant that Dumbledore could speak Mermish.

Harry's heart stopped.

Dumbledore could speak mermish.

The merfolk had seen him transform to free Ginny. _Shite!_

Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle and Harry found himself staring at them with a feeling of horror in his gut. What was he going to tell them if they asked him what he'd done? Could he admit that it was a parselmagic thing, or would he just claim to be an animagus and register the form with the ministry when he turned 17?

"...it was the most remarkable thing. A _great snake_ saved me from the grindylows!" Fleur was saying to one of her Beauxbatons friends. Harry turned around grinned a bit to himself. "I was sure I was doomed! Ze little water demons were pulling me down and I could do no'sing to stop zem! Zen dis huge serpent appears out of nowhere and _bites_ one of zem! They all scattered, but I was afraid zen that it would come after me. But it didn't!"

Harry found himself tempted to say something to her, but was distracted by Bagman's voice calling out again and drawing in everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Mer-chieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions as follows..."

Harry felt his blood go cold. '_Told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake.'_

_Shite shite shite..._

"Fleur Delacour demonstrated an excellent use of the bubblehead charm, and was able to recover her hostage, but only in forth place and after one hour and seventeen minutes; outside the time-limit of an hour. Because of this, we award her twenty-five points."

Applause from the stands.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was third to return with his hostage. We award him thirty-five points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, and a nice sized cheer roared from the stands.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the bubble-head charm, was the second to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the limit of an hour. Therefore we award him forty points."

Another roar of cheers from the crowd, most notably from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd.

"And finally, Harry Potter, who used a combination of magics, including the bubble-head charm, and a remarkable use of human-to-animal transfiguration, turned himself into a sea serpent! He was the first to return with his hostage, and well within the time limit. We award him, fifty points!"

The stands erupted in cheers and Harry smiled brightly and waved up at them, all the while wondering if the headmasters really believed that line, or if they were just covering for him.

Harry turned and saw Hermione standing beside him suddenly with wide eyes and her jaw hanging open slightly.

"Is that true!" she gasped.

"Is what true? That I was first and came in under the time limit?" Harry asked innocently.

"No, not that, Harry! I already knew that! Did you really transfigure yourself? Human transfiguration is a NEWT level skill, Harry! And you're not supposed to do it to yourself! It's incredibly dangerous! How did you even turn yourself back?"

"Hermione!" Harry called out, cutting off her rant. "I didn't transfigure myself."

She screwed up her face and frowned. "What? Then why did they say that?"

"If they think I transfigured myself, then they can go ahead and believe that. I'm not about to correct them, unless they come asking me specifically about it."

"Well then what did you do?"

"I –" Harry began but hesitated and then blinked as Viktor Krum came up, looking rather indignant.

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," Krum said, and Harry had the impression that Krum was trying to draw her attention back to him, seeing as how _he_ had been the one who just 'saved her' from the Black Lake.

Harry smirked and reached up into Hermione's hair and snatched the little black beetle with a quick reach and reflexes honed by quidditch, and several months of mock dueling a dead snake with dark magic.

He was about to release the little bug when a jolt went through his fingers. The little bug was fluttering it's wings and wiggling it's legs wildly, trying to get out of his hand.

"Ew, Harry. Just toss it," Hermione said, looking down at the bug he was still holding in his hand.

Instead Harry clasped his hand shut, trapping it in his fist.

"Herm-own-ninny?" Krum said again and Hermione turned to see what he wanted. Harry looked down at his fist and frowned. He wasn't sure _what_ it was he felt, but he was certain it wasn't just a bug. He focused all of his senses and was surprised to detect the faint magical aura of a _wizard_ coming from the bug."

He turned his head away from Krum and Hermione and whispered a parselmagic hiss quietly while focusing his magic on encasing the bug in a small magical field. Once it was complete, he could only feel a cool sphere of magic in his hand, instead of the fluttering scraping of bug. He slipped the orb into his robe pockets and turned back just in time to find Hermione about to round on him again.

"Well?" she said.

"Huh?"

"What did you do! If you didn't transfigure yourself, why did they think you did?"

"It's... kind of a long story."

"Oh, Harry, _please!_ I hate all of these _secrets_ you been keeping all term! You never tell Ron and me anything anymore," she said with a flustered pout. "The task is over, why can't you tell us what you've been doing all this time? You've dedicated so much time to your training, and I _know_ there is no way that you spent all that time just working on the bubble-head charm! And what about those potions you brewed over the holidays? What were _those_ for?"

Harry restrained the urge to scowl and gripe at her that it was none of her damned concern and to just mind her own bloody business.

"Look..." he said with some exasperation. "I'll... I'll talk to you about it later. Okay?"

Harry decided that he would wait to figure out what to tell Ron and Hermione until after he was confronted by Dumbledore – which he was almost positive would happen sooner or later – so that he could keep his stories in sync.

Hermione didn't seem pleased with this, but nodded her head and accepted it.

Bagman's voice boomed through the air again and Harry refocused on it.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-forth of June. The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support."

Madam Pomfrey then began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get looked over. Harry insisted to her that he was fine, but she then insisted that she didn't _care_ and would make that determination herself up in the hospital wing.

Reluctantly, he trudged up with the others so that the school's medi-witch could do her work-up on them, to make sure that no one had sustained any injuries that needed her attention.

It was over.

June twenty-forth. He wouldn't even find out what the last task was until May twenty-forth. That meant he now had three whole months before he even found out what it was.

He grimaced. He would have preferred to have all this time to prepare. Now he was going to have to prepare blindly. He would just continue teaching himself as much as possible and hope it would be applicable.

He was probably going to have to learn some more neutral attacks and defenses. He had learned loads of dark ones that would be helpful in lots of different situations, but he doubted that he would be in a position where he could safely use any of those.

As it was, he had believed himself relatively safe from prying eyes in regards to her sea snake transformation, but Dumbledore had found out about it anyway.

No. He definitely couldn't risk using any dark magic in the tournament.

He sighed in resignation. He had seen a dark-ish-neutral-magic defense book on the Crespus Publishing book list, but had ignored it at the time. He would order it once he was back in the dormitory and focus on it for a while.

Just as Madam Pomfrey finally released him from her care, Albus Dumbledore strode into the hospital wing with eyes trained directly upon Harry. Harry froze up and felt a mixture of dread and hatred course through him, but held it in check.

"Mr. Potter, I was wondering if perhaps I could have a brief word with you," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile and his usual twinkle in his eye.

Harry forced a look of confused innocence on his face and quickly made his way over to his headmaster. "Of course, sir."

Dumbledore smiled, turned, and began to stride quickly out of the hospital wing and towards the grand staircase.

Harry didn't bother to ask where they were going. He had no doubt that he was heading up to Dumbledore's office.

He was not surprised then, when they reached the seventh floor and headed straight down the corridor towards the gargoyle that stood in front of the entrance to the headmaster's office.

"Ice mice," Dumbledore said to the gargoyle, and it leapt aside. The two of them stepped onto the rising turning staircase and moments later Harry found himself in an overstuffed armchair and being offered a lemon drop, which he politely declined.

"So, Harry," Dumbledore began genially as he clasped his hands on his desk. "Can you tell me exactly what it is that you did, in the lake? I heard some rather interesting things from their Chieftainess."

"Um... what sorts of things?"

"It's the most curious thing, actually. Mer-chieftainess Murcus told me that there was a very large serpent that entered their village. She said that this serpent had been seen a few times before during the last few weeks, but none of her people had given it much thought since it had not been aggressive at all. Her people watched as the snake approached the hostages, but were then quite started to witness it transform into... _you._

"After freeing Miss Weasley, you then apparently transformed back and left. I must admit, Harry, I am quite curious as to what exactly you did, as I doubt somewhat that you actually transfigured yourself... especially taking into account how you discarded your wand before entering the lake."

Harry paused... was a wand necessary for the animagus transformation? Crap, he should have looked that up.

If he told the truth – that it was a parselmagic transformation – the headmaster would want to know where Harry learned it. And even if Harry lied – which he would, there was no way he was telling anyone about his visits to the chamber – the best he could do was claim he found some old rare book somehow. But that would still make Dumbledore wonder as to _why_ Harry would go to the trouble to try finding out more about the 'dark and dangerous' skill that Harry inherited from the Dark Lord. If he realized that Harry was interested enough in his parselmagic to start investigating it enough to learn the transformation, he would probably start worrying about Harry looking into _other_ dark magics... which, you know, is exactly what happened. But he didn't want to let Dumbledore know that.

And there was no way he was going to risk some idealist, barmy old codger keep him from learning a powerful and useful skill, no matter how 'dark and evil' it was socially perceived to be.

So... the lesser of two evils was... animagus. He could claim to have been working on it since the previous year. He could say that he started working on it after he found out about his dad being an animagus.

The fact that his 'animagus form' was a snake would cause some curiosity, but you can't choose your animagus form, so no one could pin it on him. And he could always try to shrug it off as one of those things caused by his 'weird connection to Voldemort'. Plus he could also use the fact that his 'form' was a snake as the excuse for why he had kept it hidden.

But then there was that whole 'did you need a wand to do the animagus transformation' problem. It didn't seem likely. Afterall – how would you turn back? Then he remembered – Sirius had transformed while in Azkaban! He didn't have a wand in prison! So he was safe. No wand was needed to perform the animagus transformation.

Harry had spent all of a second contemplating all of this. He cleared his mind and expression and replaced it with the a sheepish, guilty look.

"Um... I didn't think anyone would find out," he said in a quiet voice, as he ducked his head down and looked at his hands, which he was now wringing nervously in his lap.

"You're not in trouble, Harry. I just want to know what technique you used," Dumbledore said in a calming, reassuring voice.

Internally, Harry rolled his eyes and made a derisive remark. Externally, he looked up through his eyelashes at his headmaster with apologetic, puppy-dog eyes.

"Um... I know I'm not registered, but I read that it's not mandatory to register it until a wizard reaches 17, so I thought it would be okay... and I didn't expect anyone to be able to see it either... so..."

"Unregistered?" Dumbledore asked, curiously.

"Er... yeah... last year, pretty early on, I started trying to do the animagus transformation..." Harry said, looking back into his lap, and his voice growing more quiet and meek as he went.

Dumbledore's large bushy white eyebrows moved up into his forehead a bit in surprise.

Harry cleared his throat and squared his shoulders a bit – as if he were trying to regroup his courage – although they instantly hunched back down a moment later. "Anyway, I didn't really know if I was going to get it completed in time for the task. I only mastered the transformation about three weeks ago. My backup plan was to just swim the hard way, and rely on the bubble-head charm, completely."

Dumbledore blinked at him for a moment before sitting forward a bit. "Harry, are you saying that you mastered the animagus transformation in less than a year?"

Harry looked up and gaped for a moment before ducking his head bashfully. "Er... I guess so."

"What, exactly, possessed you to try it, if I may ask?"

"I heard that my dad and his friends were animagus. I thought it would... I don't know... bring me closer _to him_ if I went through the same thing that he did."

Harry stole a peak up at his headmaster, trying to gauge how well the old man was taking this. Dumbledore's eyes grew sad and understanding, and a soft smile spread across his lips.

"I must say Harry; I am quite surprised... but also very impressed. That is quite an impressive accomplishment, especially for someone only in their forth year. I believe that your father and his friends didn't begin their training till their fifth, and even then, they didn't successfully complete it until seventh."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore with wide, hopeful, and awe-filled eyes. Details on James and Lily used to be more precious than gold to him, and any indication that he might learn something new about either of them had always garnered this sort of response in Harry, and he knew Dumbledore would expect it.

"So!" Dumbledore said sitting back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap again. "What is your form, exactly?"

"Er... a Sea Krait."

"Ah, the sea krait. Genus Laticuada, family Hydrophiidae. The only sea serpent to retain enough of the traits from it's terrestrial cousins to still be adapted to live both on land an in water. Fascinating."

Harry's jaw dropped slightly in legitimate surprise. Bloody hell, the man was a dictionary for both magical _and_ non-magical information! He would almost expect that sort of response out of Hermione, but he hadn't expected it from the headmaster.

"Uh... yeah. That," Harry responded ineloquently.

"That's a rather curious form for you to take on, don't you think?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shrugged and looked down into his lap again. "Yeah, I suppose... I guess that's why I never told Ron or Hermione. The whole... _snake thing._ It would... weird them out."

"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger don't know?" Dumbledore said, with obvious surprise.

Harry shrugged one shoulder and kept his head bowed. "Like I said... it would weird them out. You know how Ron is about the whole parseltongue thing. Any relationship or connection with snakes and a person is instantly labeled as _dark_ by him."

"Ah, yes. I can understand your fears. However I am sure that Mr. Weasley will find it in himself to move beyond such petty prejudices. He is your friend and I think that it is important that we have people near us that we can confide in."

Harry kept his head bowed, appearing thoroughly cowed. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I would assume that there may be a bit of a celebration waiting for you back in the common room."

Harry looked up with wide surprised eyes. Internally, he was snickering about how fickle his classmates were, if that were true. If they did all suddenly start worshiping the ground he walked on, just because he was in the lead of this ruddy tournament, it would just prove how idiotic the lot of them were.

"You really think so, sir?" Harry asked with faux hope oozing from him.

"I do, Harry."

Finally Harry was dismissed and allowed to escape his headmaster's office. He slipped past the gargoyle and down the hall with a smug smirk on his face. He was really becoming an extremely accomplished actor. Even _he_ would have believed that performance.

Well... maybe not. But Harry had become a very un-trusting person. While Dumbledore wanted nothing more that to believe the best in everyone, and was, therefore, an idiotically trusting person.

Harry's hand slipped into his pocket and fingered the magical orb that contained the strange little beetle he had picked from Hermione's hair. His curiosity was peaked about it, but if Dumbledore was right, and his fellow Gryffindors were setting up some sort of stupid celebration in the common room, then he probably wasn't going to get a chance to examine it anytime soon.

That was annoying, but he'd just have to be patient and play nice with his house mates.

Harry made his way to the portrait of the Fat Lady, spoke the password and pulled it open. As soon as he stepped through the portrait hole, a roar of cheers and applause echoed through the room and he was instantly greeted by Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, who were all beaming at him and spouting congratulations.

Harry smiled, and laughed, and blushed, and acted sheepish and bashful in the appropriate instances. All the while, he kept impatiently fingering the magical ball in his pocket and wishing anxiously that the damned party would end already so he could find somewhere private to investigate it.

The party, however, seemed like it would never end. It was still in full swing later that afternoon.

Harry managed to beg off by telling the others that he really wanted to shower and clean up before dinner and escaped up to his dorm room alone. Once inside, he flicked his wand towards the door and cast a locking spell.

He pulled the magical ball out of his pocket and examined it. It looked like a glass orb, and while it had no actual physical form, it felt solid. And of course, inside it was a hysterically fluttering little black beetle.

The magical barrier he was using to contain it was masking some of his ability to sense the magic he detected from the bug when he first picked it up, so he looked around the room for an alternative container.

On the desk beside Harry's bed was a glass jar that he used to hold old quills. He walked over, emptied it's contents into a drawer and examined the jar. It was an old jam jar that he had nicked from his aunt a few summers ago, and he didn't have the lid to it. But that certainly wasn't a real problem. He could have used a rock and transfigured it into an aquarium if he really felt like going all out, after all.

He lowered the little magical containment ball into the jar and then waved his wand over the jar, transfiguring it so that it had no opening at all, but was instead a solid continuous glass all around. With a quiet hiss and a wave of his fingers, the magical ball vanished and the beetle was released from it, only to find itself just as trapped inside the jar with no opening.

It fluttered angrily around the jar, ramming itself at the sides. Now that the parselmagic barrier was gone and the beetle was left in an entirely non-magical container, there was nothing blocking his senses.

He set the jar on his desk, sat down in his chair, and stared intently at it. He could _definitely_ feel a wizard's aura.

"You're a wizard, aren't you?" he asked at the little bug and it froze suddenly. He smirked and quirked a single eyebrow. "Not very subtle are you?" he chuckled. "Let's see... you could be someone who has been transfigured into a bug, but then it's unlikely that you'd retain enough sense to understand English. Alternately... you _could_ be an animagus...?"

The bug was holding still and he would swear it was staring straight at him. Suddenly it began fluttering around crazily again.

"Well, if you _are_ an animagus, I know one quick way to tell," he mused as he stood up, grabbed his bag from beside his bed and pulled the Marauder's Map out of it's front pocket. He tapped his wand on it and spoke the incantation to activate it. The ink appeared on the page and he quickly found his location in Gryffindor Tower. What he saw there made him nearly choke.

Inside the forth year dormitory of Gryffindor Tower were two dots. One said Harry Potter. The _other one_ said Rita Skeeter.

Harry narrowed his eyes and turned back to the bug in the jar. He growled and tapped the map again, deactivating it. He folded it up, and slid it back into his bag before striding back to the desk, sitting down in the chair and coming eye level with the jar. He stared straight into it and pierced the beetle with a deathly glare.

"Well, hello _Rita,"_ he said as a dangerously wicked grin spread across his lips. The bug froze for a second before resuming it's furious flight in circles inside it's confined space.

Harry quickly pulled out his wand and cast an unbreakable charm on the jar, to make sure she could break the jar by transforming.

"I suppose this explains how you were able to spy on me inside the school," he mused as he bent down and brought his nose right up to the side of the glass. "Now, what to do with you... I wonder..." the evil, sadistic grin that was plastered across his face, and the powerful waves of magic – _dark_ magic – that was rolling off him would have terrified the strongest of wizards.

Rita actually fainted.

He cackled lightly before opening his trunk to the expanded book compartment that had the parseltongue password. He slid the jar in between several books and closed the trunk with a giggle. Oh this was going to be entertaining... he just needed to find an appropriate block of time to have his fun.

– –


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed the following afternoon as Harry tried to slip from the common room unnoticed. Clearly, he had failed.

He turned around to face her and gave her an innocent smile. "Yeah, Hermione?"

"Where do you think you're going!"

"Er... for a walk?"

"And what happened to your promise to explain what you did in the task?" she asked in a hushed voice as she came up to his side. "Did you, or did you not, transfigure yourself? And what was it that Professor Dumbledore wanted to talk to you about, yesterday after the task?"

Harry scowled slightly and gave her a brief glare before masking his expression to one of hesitant worry. He knew he couldn't dodge this forever. Although, admittedly, he had hoped for more than a day to pass before he was interrogated again.

"Alright," he mumbled. "But if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it with both you and Ron, in one go. I don't want to have to explain it again.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled. "Alright, I go get him."

He rolled his eyes at her back and sighed. "Let's do this up in me and Ron's room. The other guys are all down here, so we'll have some privacy up there."

She nodded over her shoulder and quickly hurried across the common room to the table where Ron was engaged in a game of chess with one of the second years who had been gullible enough to agree to play him.

Ron looked annoyed at being interrupted, but Hermione was clearly being rather insistent. Harry stood there and tried to go over in his mind exactly how he was going to approach this situation. It wasn't like he actually cared if they were offended that he had kept secrets from them, but he wanted to avoid some sort of conflict if he could manage it.

Finally Hermione came back with Ron in tow. Harry sighed, but mostly in exasperation and annoyance at having to deal with this.

The three made their way up the stairs to the boy's dormitory and positioned themselves around Harry's bed and desk. Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the door. A few simple flicks and swishes later and the door was locked, and a privacy ward had been put up.

Hermione and Ron were both looking at him with wide, curious and slightly confused eyes.

He ducked his head in mock bashfulness and rubbed the back of his neck as he took a seat on his bed.

"I er... don't want this getting out. Theoretically, I could get into real trouble for it," Harry said, looking up at them and giving them a weak grin.

"Get into trouble for what!" Hermione asked as her eyes suddenly grew extremely wide with worry.

"Well... okay, so you know how you asked me two questions? You asked if I really did transfigure myself, and what the headmaster had wanted to talk to me about after the task?"

"Yes," Hermione said nodding her head. Ron just looked a bit lost, and watched the two of them curiously.

"Well, they're sort of linked. The headmaster wanted to know what it was I did too. I told him, and he's okay with it, so I'm not in trouble with _him._ I just can't risk it getting out to anyone at the ministry."

"What did you do, Harry!" Hermione asked in an exasperated tone.

"I er... became an animagus," he said with a sheepish grin and a shrug.

Ron looked stunned, but Hermione looked down-right flabbergasted.

"You what! How? When! Becoming an animagus takes _years!_ How –"

"I started it last year. Early-on, actually," Harry mumbled, looking down at his hands and fingering at his wand.

"What! But... wait, when? And why didn't you say anything about it?" Hermione asked, her tone shifting to hurt, rather than surprised or disapproving. Ron was frowning and looking equally upset.

"I... I just couldn't. I mean... okay, do you know much about how one becomes an animagus?"

Ron shook his head, but Hermione, as expected, had an answer. "First you have to brew a rather complicated potion. The potion reveals whether or not you have an animal form, and what it will be. And then you have to go through months of meditative practice, followed by many months of gradual partial transformations of each of your individual limbs and body parts. Then –"

"Right," Harry said, cutting her off. "So the first thing I did was discover if I could even do it, and what my form would be."

"Right," Hermione said with a curt nod, prodding him on.

"Well, I sort of... freaked out, when I saw what my form was."

"What _is_ your form?" Ron asked, finally speaking up for the first time.

"Er... a snake," Harry mumbled.

Ron's eyes went wide and his skin went pale.

Hermione had apparently already figured this out and didn't really seem surprised.

"Yeah... so, anyway, when I realized what my form would be I... I guess I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to say anything before then because I didn't want to get my hopes up on the whole thing working only to discover I didn't have an animagus form at all. And then I go and find out my animagus form is a great bloody snake and I _knew_ that it would weird you out," he said, looking straight at Ron.

Ron looked like he was about to protest, but Harry cut him off by continuing.

"I did the meditation and breathing exercises at night before bed, just... I don't know, just for the hell of it. I wasn't even trying that hard at it the first few months. It was mostly something to just keep my mind off other things.

"But during the summer, when I was stuck back at the Dursley's, I worked on it a lot more. I mean, I had nothing else to do. They locked up all my school things in the cupboard, and wouldn't let me leave my ruddy room most of the time. So I just laid in bed, practicing the animagus transformation."

Hermione gasped. "But Harry! We're not supposed to practice magic outside of school!"

"Yeah, but this doesn't require a wand, and I don't think it registers with the magical trace the way normal magic does. It's not actually _cast_ the way normal spells are cast. In any case, nothing that I did ever resulted in a howler from the Ministry, so they obviously didn't catch on to anything.

"I didn't practice an awful lot the first month or so of school, but after I got dragged into the tournament, and you two ditched me, I had a lot more free time on my hands, so I refocused on my training. And _then_, after I got the clue for the second task and realized that I would need to go into the Black Lake, I figured that my animagus form could help me out a lot with the task, so I started working _really really_ hard on it. I only mastered it three weeks ago, actually."

"I... I can't believe you didn't trust us with this, Harry," Hermione said as she looked over at him sadly.

Harry huffed. "It's not about _trust._ I just... I mean, yeah, I was pretty sure that you guys would freak out a bit about the snake thing, although I also figured that you'd get over it at some point. But mostly I just... I don't know why, but I just wanted to keep this to myself. It was like... this was something that my dad did. Sure, I found out later that he did it with his friends, but originally I just wanted to do it on my own. And after the way the two of you turned on me after Halloween I didn't really.. _want_ to share it with either of you. And even after we made up, I had kept it secret for so long I just didn't know how to tell either of you."

"Oh Harry..." Hermione said, giving him that sad, understanding look that made him want to sneer and scowl at her. He managed to restrain himself, and kept his head bowed and began to finger the hem of his robes nervously.

"It was incredibly reckless of you to do it alone though," Hermione said with a long sigh. "It can be so dangerous, Harry! There are so many things that can go wrong when attempting the animagus transformation!"

Harry just shrugged and kept his head ducked sheepishly.

An awkward silence fell heavy in the room for a minute.

"So... you can't like... pick your animagus form or anything?" Ron's voice said, breaking the silence.

Hermione gave an exasperated huff and glared at Ron. "No, Ron. You cannot pick your own animagus form. Not everyone even _has_ one. Most people don't."

"Well... How is your animal form chosen, exactly?" Ron asked.

"This animal form is not chosen by the wizard, but determined by their personality and inner traits. Thus, one's Animagus form is a reflection of one's inner nature," Hermione said in her 'I'm repeating something I read' voice.

Ron's eyes widened and he gave Harry a scrutinizing look.

Harry looked up and scowled slightly. "See? _That's_ why I didn't want to tell you."

"What!" Ron said, defensively. "I didn't say anything!"

"Maybe not, but I can tell from the look on your face what your thinking. You're wondering what about my _'inner nature'_ could result in me ending up as a snake," Harry said, grumbling and scowling in a rather immature looking pout. He hoped it was convincing.

"I was not!" Ron exclaimed, but his voice wobbled a bit that told Harry that his statement had been right. Not that he had doubted it any. He had a pretty good understanding on how the ginger's mind worked.

"Harry, it's alright. You don't have to hid this sort of thing from us. We're your friends," Hermione said, as she shot a rather scathing glare at Ron, who pouted.

"Yeah, Harry. I mean... yeah, it's kind of... _weird,_ but so what? It's still cool that you can turn into an animal, right?"

Harry looked up and let a small sheepish grin curve up the corner of his mouth. "It is pretty cool. And I can still cast parselmagic while in my sea krait form. It's brilliant."

Hermione gasped as her hand flew up to her mouth. "That's impossible! You're kidding!"

"Nope. A normal animagus can't perform magic while in their animal form because they can't hold a wand or speak, but all I need to do to perform parselmagic is speak in parseltongue, which I can still do as a snake. You know that locator spell I taught myself for the task, but wouldn't show you guys? It was actually a parseltongue spell. That was why I really didn't want to practice it in front of you. I knew you'd ask why I was learning a parselmagic locator spell, instead of learning a normal magic one, and _then_ I would have had to explain about the sea krait thing."

"Wait... what's a sea krait?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"It's the kind of snake I turn into."

"Oh..." Ron replied, still looking confused.

"It's the only sea snake that retained enough traits from normal land snakes to live on both land and in the sea. So it was _really_ convenient for the task. I can swim wicked fast underwater."

"Wow..." Ron paused and looked thoughtful for a moment – which meant he looked constipated. "Can... can I see?"

Harry blinked in honest surprise. He glanced over and saw excited curiosity burning behind Hermione's eyes too.

"Uh... I guess so. Yeah, sure," Harry said as he stood up and walked awkwardly into the center of the room.

It had been more than three weeks since the last time he had performed the transformation while above water, so he felt a little weird about it at first. Down in the chamber he had found that it worked best if he did it while kneeling, so he did that know. He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused on the process of transforming his body.

He felt the tingles of his magic like pins and needles across every bit of skin, and the strange sensation that came with his legs magically melding together, and his arms shrinking into nothing.

He heard a gasp from Hermione, and a whimpering noise from Ron, but ignored it as his body sunk down and elongated across the floor. He opened his eyes and flicked out his tongue, tasking the air around him. He slithered across the floor to the base of the chair Ron was sitting in. The redhead looked as if he were about to faint. In fact, as Harry got closer, Ron actually lifted his feet off the floor and grabbed hold of his knees.

Harry 'laughed' which came out as a series of hisses. He raised head up off the ground with ease, until his head was now almost eye level with Ron's. Harry _was_ a very large snake, after all, so this was quite a simple task.

"Blimey," Ron squeaked in a comically high pitched voice.

"Wow..." Hermione said in a hushed voice.

Harry lowered himself back to the ground and slithered around the space for a minute before coming back to the spot of floor right in front of the two of them and coiling into a large heap in front of Hermione. Again, he rose his head up high so that he was now about level with her lap. Hesitantly, she reached out and pet his head. He hissed out another chuckle, and her eyes widened for a moment before her face broke out into a smile.

She pet her hand down his head and a bit down his 'neck', smiling more and more with each subsequent stroke.

"You're so soft... I never expected a snake to feel like this," she mused quietly.

Harry looked at her with a bit of surprise, but then he supposed it shouldn't be that surprising that Hermione had never touched a snake before.

"You want to feel, Ron?" She asked turning to the redhead, who still looked mildly horrified.

"What!" he squeaked. "Uh, no... er, that would probably be a bit... weird."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Harry.

"Well, Harry, I have to admit that the snake bit was a little weird at first, but I think it's brilliant now."

Ron gave her a look that told Harry that he thought it was anything but 'brilliant', but he remained silent.

Harry grinned, internally, and slithered back to the open center of the room where he quickly transformed back into himself.

"That is just... it's just _incredible_, Harry!" she beamed, standing up and rushing over to him. Much to his surprise, she pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

She pulled back and the smile on her face was so bright and happy that he actually felt a spark of guilt surge through him, suddenly, for lying to the two of them so much. Well... not the two of them. Just Hermione.

"Er, thanks," Harry said, ducking his head and reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

"So are you going to tell Sirius?" she asked excitedly and Harry just blinked at her in surprised shock.

"Oh, I er... I... don't know. I hadn't really thought about it much."

"Hadn't thought about it!" Hermione echoed in disbelief.

"Well, I mean, I sort of thought he might have the same sort of response as er... Ron," he said, shooting Ron an apologetic look. Ron's ears turned a bit pink and he looked slightly embarrassed.

"Don't be silly, Harry! Sirius will never think any less of you for having a snake as your animagus form. I'm sure he'll be _so impressed_ to discover that you've managed to learn such an complex and difficult piece of magic, when you're still only fourteen! I mean, honestly Harry, this is truly an incredible accomplishment! I don't think you realize just how huge a deal this is!" Hermione ranted.

"Yeah... I guess, I'll tell him then... if we really do see him in person, that is. I'm not going to risk writing about this in a letter."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"I don't want to risk the Ministry finding out," Harry explained, looking back to Ron.

"Huh? Why not?"

Hermione gave an exasperated huff. "Because then he would have to register, of course," she said before pausing and looking back at Harry. "What did professor Dumbledore say about that, anyway?"

"Not much, honestly. It's not actually required by law to register a person's animagus form until they turn 17, so I can't be prosecuted for not telling them, before then. But I'd like to stay unregistered for as long as possible, if I can manage."

"Why not just register?" Ron asked.

"Because then it's a matter of public record, and anyone and everyone will know that my animagus form is to turn into a great, huge, snake."

"Oh... yeah, I guess that would be a good reason to keep it quiet," Ron said.

"Anyway, I agree that it might be for the best not to register if you don't have you. But you should definitely tell Sirius if we see him next weekend," Hermione said in a rather bossy tone that Harry had long since grown used to.

He rolled his eyes but gave her a genial smile. "Fine, fine. I'll figure out how to tell him. Anyway... I really was wanting to take a walk around the castle to clear my head, so I'm going to head out for a bit."

"Want some company, mate?" Ron asked, looking hopeful.

"Nah, thanks Ron, but I was hoping for some peace and quiet. I'll be back in an hour, okay?"

Ron frowned but sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, sure," he grumbled.

Harry removed the locking charm, and the privacy ward with a flick of his wand, picked his bag back up and escaped from the common room.

He was quite impressed with himself. Not only had he managed a pretty impressive bit of acting, but he had barely felt the urge to strangle either of them. Which really was quite the feat considering that they were keeping him from his dark arts training. Any excessive delay in his daily dark arts practice, and he would get edgy and snappy quite quickly. He was starting to feel more secure in his control over the dark magic that was growing ever stronger inside him.

He controlled it with greater and greater ease as more time passed, and it didn't leave him nearly as mindlessly crazed as it once did. It still felt unbelievably amazing though. The power truly was addictive and he loved every minute of it. There were some days – usually days where he had to attend History of Magic or Divination – where he spent the whole bloody day desperately looking forward to his time in the chamber.

He ducked behind a tapestry, slipped on his cloak and pulled out the Marauder's Map to check to make sure there wasn't anyone to worry about before making the quick trek to Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor.

He _really_ needed it tonight. He was itching to blow off some steam, and he could feel his whole body vibrating with anticipation of what was to come. With a wicked grin plastered across his face, he headed for the chamber, and the basilisk corpse that lay within.

– –

_§Ahh, Nagini. Just what I needed. All of this time alone is giving my mind too much time to wander.§_

_§What troubles you, my master?§ Nagini hissed as she slithered up the back of the armchair he was perched in beside the large window of the study. She continued down to lay her head upon the armrest and his hand came up to begin lightly stroking her soft, smooth scales._

_§Many things trouble me, pet... Things I have been unable to do anything about for so long, that they trouble me greatly as I try to plan how to tackle them now. The time draws near that I will finally be able to resume my work, but I fear it may be too much, even for me. I have lost so much time... and even before the unfathomable mishap that left me in my pathetic half-life for over a decade, I had wasted so much time, and missed so many opportunities. I really should not let my mind dwell on these things, but on nights like this, I find myself unable to stop.§_

_§I'm not sssure that I understand, my masster. Can you tell me more? I wisssh to understand. I wissshh to help.§_

_He looked away with distant eyes, unfocused, and sighed, relaxing further into his seat as he trailed his fingers gently over her head. _

_§In my youth I was so naïve,§ he began quietly. §Thought I could save the world from itself,§ he chuckled humorlessly. §I didn't see the point in waiting until the End-Of-Days, to stop the coming doom. Why wait to stop the muggles when it happens? Why not just begin working on it now? Eradicate the worthless little monsters. Destroy them before they can destroy all of us. Ah... if only it were that easy._

_§I long ago saw the error of my ways. My less than stellar upbringing by the wretched muggles at that orphanage clouded my judgment. I fell from my path, and __I was sloppy. By the time I began to realize what I had done, I felt like I had wasted so much time... And then I heard that damned prophecy. I must admit I panicked. The prospect of having someone who would 'vanquish' me before I was able to make up for my mistakes and wasted time... Before I could truly set what needed to be done in motion... I couldn't allow it. I had to remove the threat before it could be fully realized. If that meant killing an infant, then so be it. It wasn't how I usually preferred to operate, but it was what needed to be done._

_§But of course all my efforts accomplished was to delay me substantially further because of how it all blew up in my face... quite literally," he scoffed, bitterly. "I was left in nothingness for more than a decade. A decade where I was not dead, but not quite alive either. I could not continue my work, but Magic could not deem a new Lord to take over my role because I was still somewhat alive, and therefore retained my title and it's powers. _

_§Thus__ the Light's power flourished, and the balance was upset even further. What's worse, that damned fool Dumbledore has been in control of educating Britain's wizards, almost entirely unopposed, all this time, and he has pushed his skewed ideals into the minds of an entire generation of wizards._

_§I fear the End is nearer than I ever thought possible. The more I learn about the advances the muggles have made while I was... away, the greater my concern grows. Their science had become powerful, my love. Too powerful. If they were to discover us... to discover magic, I think they just might have the tools to steal it from us. If not now, they will soon. Less than a decade or two, I imagine. _

_Once upon a time I sought out immortality to guarantee I could stay in the land of the living long enough to personally fight the battle that is to come, and now I wonder if that was ever even necessary. I think I just might see it during my natural life span. Then again, if I had not taken such steps, I would not have survived the incident with the Potters.§ he added bitterly with a scowl._

_§I suppose one of my greatest fears is that my idiotic mistakes may have brought us closer to The End, sooner than we would have otherwise. Although the blame still lies almost entirely in that great fool Dumbledore's hands. I fear that there is not nearly enough time for me to set things right. That things have gone beyond even what I can control.§_

_§You are sssstrong masster. If anyone can do it... it isssss you.§_

_He chuckled and rubbed his tiny bony thumb along the top of her head. She turned her head into the massaging motion and hissed out in pleasure. _

_§My only consolation is that the wizarding world is so set in it's ways that it has changed very little since my idiotic mistake with the Potter brat. They are stubborn and slow to adapt. But now that will work against me. I must gain control of the Ministry, and quickly so that I can enact the changes that need to be made. Control must be attained with haste, so I am not sure I have time to set my people for a slow infiltration and a subtle take-over. My methods may need to be quite violent to succeed in time. However the more violence I must resort to, the stronger the Light will fight back.§_

_§But their own survival depends on what you must do, my masster! They are foolsss to fight againssst you!§_

_He snickered. §Yes, love, they are foolsss. But they are mostly ignorant and gullible. They believe what that old goat tells them, and nothing of what I would say.§_

_§Can you not simply explain it to them?§_

_He scoffed. §They would never believe the word of a Dark Lord. The old ways have been long lost to the lesser wizards. They have all been brainwashed into believing that dark equals evil, and light equals good. The good could only ever want what is right and just, and that could only ever lead to greater happiness and easier lives. But life is not easy, and survival requires sacrifices. They have forgotten where our magic comes from. They have forgotten the price we will have to pay, should the __Light's current goals succeed. They are mindless fools, and the they must be controlled by force to bring about what is needed. They will never willingly go along with it because they do not understand the consequences.§_

_§All those who opposssse you will perish, my massster. None possess the power __necesssary to stand againssst you.§_

_He smirked, §Ah love, you flatter me. But even I am not all powerful, no matter what I would have the rest of the world believe. It will be a great task to gain control over the wizarding world of Britain and then Europe. But no matter the importance of the Ministry, true success would be found in full control over the schools.__ After all... the children are our future. Only through re-education of the wizarding world's youth can we hope that those of Magic will survive the muggle's End-of-Days.§ he said and sighed heavily as he ran his tiny hand over his face and back over his bald head._

_§I am so tired, Nagini... but I cannot let anyone see my weakness. If I am seen as weak, I will lose them, and that is not something that I can afford.§_

_§You are ssstrong, my masster. I know that you will prevail! The Magicssss themssselves chose you. You will sssshow the world your ssstrength and all of the wizardssss will cower at your feet!§_

_He chuckled and grinned. __§Ah, Nagini... you always know how to cheer me up. You are right. I am being far too sentimental, and worrying on things that I can not yet control. I have been too distanced from my magic lately.§_

_§You time of return approachesssss... Your power only growss greater with each day.§_

_§Yes... yes it does,§ he said as a wicked grin spread across his face. §When I am fully returned I will show them all what true fear is, and I will force them all to see just how weak their reliance on the Light has made them. We will reign, and protect only those of magical blood from the doom that the muggles will bring down upon themselves.§_

–

Harry woke up very... _confused_.

It had all made perfect sense... _last night._ When he was Voldemort, every word he had said and thought made sense and he understood the greater meanings behind all of it.

Now, however, it made almost no sense at all. The memories necessary to gave context to the conversation that Voldemort had had with his familiar, Nagini, did not come with the vision. And now that Harry was just Harry again, he had trouble making heads or tail of what he had experienced the night before.

It was also quite odd to experience such a contemplative and pensive mood as the Dark Lord. The man was so surprisingly... _human._

He had felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. A huge task and monumental responsibilities that he felt bound to take care of. It didn't matter what was necessary in order to complete his task, it was worth it. The task was too important for anyone to stand in his way...

But what was the task?

It wasn't the first time that Voldemort had mentioned this _task _of his. But no matter how many visions Harry experienced in Voldemort's mind, he never got a complete enough picture to have even the slightest clue as to what it was.

Harry sat up in his bed and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. Then, suddenly, he swing his legs over the side and went over to his desk. He pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment and sat down in his simple wooden desk chair.

He decided he really needed to start making some sense of these visions he had, and the best way to do that was to write some of it down.

_Where:_

Harry wrote the word on the parchment and then stuck the end of his quill into his mouth as he scrunched up his face, and sifted through his memories of all the visions he had had, thus far.

_Large, grand, manor house on a hill outside a small town._

_Muggle village_

He paused again, trying to remember what the town was called. He'd thought it several times... and Wormtail had even brought the local paper to him... It was... little? Little something... _Little Hangleton!_

He wrote it down.

_Who is with him/helping him:_

_Peter Pettigrew - 'Wormtail'_

_Barty -?_

_Nagini (snake)_

Harry paused again and looked down at the parchment. He decided that he needed to just write down everything that he _did_ know about what it was that Voldemort was trying to do. He had utterly discarded the idea that Voldemort was just out for world domination and muggle eradication.

He had clearly held a powerful hatred for muggles when he was younger, and at that time, he _had_ thought that wiping out all the muggles would help him in this... _task,_ whatever it was... but he had apparently given up on that plan.

But muggle killing had never been the _goal_, it had merely been something that he had though was a means to the goal, and had since changed his mind.

So what was the goal?

_His task:_

_He talks about the 'End-of-Days'_

_Muggle Apocalypse?_

_It sounds like he's trying to stop it? Or prevent it?_

_If he fails, everyone dies... if he succeeds, wizards survive. _

_The muggles will die no matter what. There is no saving them. They're doomed no matter what we do._

Harry stopped and stared down at the parchment in bewilderment. He didn't even know where that had come from. He didn't recall Voldemort specifically _thinking_ that, and he hadn't actually said it to Nagini either... and yet, Harry somehow _knew_ it was true.

But how? Was it just because he had been in the man's head so much, and Voldemort knew it?

Were the muggles seriously doomed? What the hell was going to happen to cause all this, and why in Merlin's name was _Voldemort_ of all people the one tasked to stop it?

_Voldemort blames it on Dumbledore_

Harry wrote the words and sat back in his chair to look down at them. He nibbled aimlessly on the end of his quill as he tried to search his memories for some clue as to _why_ Voldemort blamed Dumbledore... A spark flashed through his mind and the instant later, his quill was back onto the parchment.

_Dumbledore wants to save the muggles. He doesn't realize he can't. _

_If he tries, we all die. We can only save ourselves._

Again, Harry didn't know where the knowledge came from, only that he knew inside him that it was true. It made some sort of sense too. He could totally imagine Dumbledore doing something absolutely idiotic, in an attempt to save the muggles. Even if it meant putting us all at risk. Did Dumbledore know the same things that Voldemort did?

Obviously not all of it... at least not the part about it being impossible to save the muggles. Or perhaps he knew, but wanted to _have faith_ that he could save them somehow anyway.

But save them from what?

Harry grumbled in frustration. He only knew bits and pieces of information and it was all out of context.

In any case, it was now blatantly obvious to Harry that there was a whole hell of a lot more to the last war than Voldemort killing muggles and wanting to rule the wizarding world. He wasn't just a megalomaniac. There was a much deeper motive behind the scenes that either, no one knew about, or no one was talking about.

Harry refocused on the parchment, deciding to move onto the next topic.

_Why did he come after me as a child?_

This was another point that obviously had some history to it. Several times Voldemort had made reference to a 'prophecy' but it had always been in passing before. Last night he had gone into more detail when speaking to Nagini. Whatever this prophecy was, it sounded like it had said that someone would 'vanquish' Voldemort... and that someone was... _Harry_?

That was an extremely difficult thought to process, and an even harder thought for Harry to put down on parchment.

It would explain why Voldemort had come after Harry, specifically; why he had come himself, instead of sending his Death Eaters to do it for him. Voldemort had theorized that Harry's mum had used some old blood magic to protect Harry from Voldemort's killing curse. Harry's parents had known that Voldemort was after them. They had gone under the Fidelius, after all, to hide from the Dark Lord. And his mum knew that Voldemort was after _Harry, specifically_, if she had been researching ways to protect him with old blood magic.

He huffed and put his quill to parchment.

_A prophecy was made that said I would defeat him. -? (Hard to believe, but okay...)_

_He set out to kill me when I was an infant - before I became a 'threat'_

He paused again and frowned.

_Why didn't I die?_

_Mum's dark blood magic?_

He sat back and reread everything he'd written so far.

_His task:_

_He talks about the 'End-of-Days'_

_Muggle apocalypse?_

_It sounds like he's trying to stop it? Or prevent it?_

_If he fails, everyone dies... if he succeeds, wizards survive. _

_Muggles will die no matter what. There is no saving them. _

_They're doomed no matter what we do._

_Voldemort blames it on Dumbledore_

_Dumbledore wants to save the muggles. He doesn't realize he can't. _

_If he tries, we all die. We can only save ourselves._

He paused there and ran his hand through his hair. His thoughts on it were more organized now, and he felt like he had a slightly better grasp on things, but he also felt like he had a mountain of new questions, and no idea where to find answers.

For a split second, he considered asking Dumbledore, but instantly snorted and scoffed the idea away. Dumbledore would never tell him. He was too _young,_ Harry thought with a sneer.

And even if he wasn't 'too young', he doubted the old goat would ever be that honest with him. The man was a sneaky, manipulative old fart and Harry didn't trust him at all.

He wondered suddenly how much of that distrust was really his own. He knew some of it was from his companion, but that was mostly because his companion disapproved of how Dumbledore had handled Harry. But Harry knew, on some level at least, that a great deal of his distrust for Dumbledore had absolutely nothing to do with how he had been treated by his headmaster.

Was this a feeling that had bled over from his visions as Voldemort? It didn't seem like he had had enough of the visions for emotions and opinions of Voldemort to have 'bled' into his own through them. But then again, he had to admit that he didn't really understand the strange connection he shared with the Dark Lord.

And he hadn't exactly been fighting against the visions or the Dark Lord's influence either. Harry had a few theories as to why his visions were no longer painful for him. His first theory was that it was because his magical affinity had been changing. He was no longer a light wizard. In fact, Harry had come to fully accept the fact that he was quickly on his way to being a _dark_ wizard, and no matter how badly he knew it _should _bother him, he just couldn't find it in himself to think this was a bad thing. So he theorized that, being a dark wizard himself, made it so that it no longer hurt to be inside the mind of another dark wizard.

Still, that didn't fully explain it. His affinity had only recently really gone dark, but the visions hadn't hurt since...

Since he pulled down the barriers around his _companion_ and accepted him...

Harry frowned and twisted up his mouth in thought.

He really wasn't sure if he was comfortable exploring this line of thought, but he also knew he had been avoiding it for too long. He knew that his companion was the source of his parseltongue ability. He knew that his parseltongue ability came from the power that Voldemort had left in him when he was a baby. But he also knew that his companion was a sentient entity. A separate personalty from his own. A separate _person_, inside him.

A separate person that came from Voldemort.

No... a _piece_ _of_ _Voldemort._

Harry clenched his eyes shut, forcefully, momentarily wishing the thought had never actually crossed through his mind.

_'Oh, come on, Harry. You can't pretend you didn't already know.'_ he thought to himself, as he sighed and sank back in his chair.

He decided not to dwell on it just yet. He would... he would discuss it with his companion that night when he went to bed. As it was, it was still very early and his dorm mates would be waking up soon and expecting him to go to breakfast with them.

He picked up the parchment and folded it in half. He moved over to his trunk and hissed the password for the third compartment. He checked on Rita's jar and gave it a quick, violent shake, jarring the fatigued beetle awake and probably scaring the crap out of her.

He snickered as she quickly cowered along the bottom and then put the jar back in his trunk. It had been a week and a half since the task and other then conjuring a small amount of water into the jar, he hadn't given her a thing, and had left her in the pitch black of his trunk the whole time. He picked out one of the parselmagic books he had taken from the chamber and placed the folded parchment inside it and then put the book back inside his trunk.

After making sure that it was locked securely, he grabbed his toiletries and made his way to the loo.

– –

That day was Friday and the past week and a half had been quiet and boring, up until his vision that previous night. Since the task he had spent an hour each afternoon down in the chamber doing his dark magic training, but without the need to practice swimming in the lake, or any other training related to a tournament, he found he had a surprising amount of free time. Thanks to the tournament and his overloaded schedule, he had gotten into the habit of getting his homework done quickly and efficiently as possible, and that habit had not changed.

Of course, the fact that Harry didn't have all this stuff occupying his time, all of a sudden, or the tournament, as an excuse for ditching Ron and Hermione, they both expected him to spend all this new found free time with _them. _Their excessive clingyness had made going down to the chamber a bit more difficult, but he had managed. Unfortunately he had not yet found a block of time large enough that he felt it would be sufficient to deal with Rita. He wanted a few solid hours for that because he wanted to enjoy himself without worry of being missed.

He had another thing on his mind that day though. The following day was the Hogsmeade visit that Sirius had asked for the date of, but he still had yet to hear back from his godfather since he had replied.

Ron and Harry left their dorm room and headed down to the common room to find Hermione there waiting for them. The three of them then made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

As soon as the post owls began arriving, the small brown owl that Harry recognized as Sirius's appeared in the air, and soared straight for Harry.

He looked at in with a mixture of stunned surprise, excitement, and considerable worry. Sirius visiting in person would bring about a number of potential problems, and some real, legitimate concerns.

Harry reached out and took the letter from the bird's leg and unrolled it.

"_Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can."_

Harry turned the parchment over to make sure he hadn't missed anything on the back. There was nothing else. Just that one bit of text.

He sighed in slight exasperation and shook his head.

"He's out of his mind," he quietly moaned. "I just hope he knows what he's doing. Coming to visit me isn't worth the risk of getting caught," he grumbled as he rolled the letter back up and gave the owl a bit of bacon.

Harry resumed his meal and began to mull over what the next day would likely entail. One thing he would have to worry about was the fact that Hermione and Ron would undoubtedly expect to come with him. In fact they were already making plans, in hushed whispers while he ate quietly beside them.

Sirius would expect to discuss what Harry had seen and observed about Snape and Karkaroff, but Harry hadn't told Ron or Hermione about any of his suspicions that Snape might actually be an ex-Death Eater. _Maybe not even 'ex'._

Then there was his concerns about the Moody-Crouch thing. It was definitely really _weird_ that Mr. Crouch was at Hogwarts all the time, and that he was doing it disguised as Moody. The old man had struck Harry as a bit odd, during the Goblet of Fire selection thing... but... Harry shook his head. It was weird, and confusing, and he _knew_ there was a lot more going on than he had figured out yet.

But he wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Sirius about any of it until he had a better idea of what was going on.

There was one other rather significant weight of guilt pressing against the back of his mind though.

Harry knew where Wormtail was.

Or at least, he knew enough that the traitor could easily be found. _A big mansion on a hill outside Little Hangleton._ Wormtail was there almost constantly, except for when Voldemort sent him out on little errands into town.

If they caught Wormtail, then Sirius could be exonerated. He could be a free man and wouldn't have to be on the run anymore.

But Harry couldn't give away Wormtail's location without giving away Voldemort's location with it...

Harry frowned and put his fork down on the plate. Why _wasn't_ he giving up Voldemort's location? The thought hadn't even _occurred _to him. He hadn't even considered giving the man up to Dumbledore. This would be the best time to do it. Voldemort was still fairly weak, and his body was hardly equipped for dueling – although Harry knew that even in his little homunculus, Voldemort would still be formidable.

But Harry... Harry didn't _want_ Voldemort to be caught.

Bloody hell! He didn't want Voldemort caught! When the hell had that happened? And what would it mean? Harry's magical affinity had gone dark. He didn't even try to deny that to himself. In fact, he was rather enjoying it. He found himself frequently empathizing with the Dark Lord. His growing deep fascination with learning old and obscure dark magics was incredibly similar to how Voldemort felt on the same subject.

He was reading the same books that Voldemort had read when he was Harry's age, and spending all of his free time down in the same hidden room in the chamber that Riddle had spent his time in. It made him feel oddly connected to the Dark Lord – even beyond the obvious connection they shared through his scar. Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he was in _awe_ of the man's power and knowledge of the dark arts. When he was Voldemort during his visions he could _feel_ the power he possessed and it was incredible.

And then there was that whole 'deeper motives' thing he had just begun to understand.

Even when he thought about the fact that Voldemort had come after him as a baby, and had killed his parents, Harry couldn't quite muster up the strong force of anger he once had when reminded of that fact. He knew now that Voldemort did it as an act of self-preservation. He wasn't just slaughtering some innocent family for spite, or for the fun of it. He was trying to protect himself from his prophecized killer.

_But he killed my parents! It's because of him that I ended up with the Dursley's!_

_...No. I ended up with the Dursley's because Dumbledore put me there. Voldemort took my parents away, but I still could have had a happy childhood if Dumbledore had just checked up on me once or twice and seen how I was being treated... He could have placed me with a family that would treat me decent, but he didn't._

_But.. even if he had known how I was treated all those years, Dumbledore wouldn't have let me leave them. He knows now, how I'm treated, and he still makes me go back! He doesn't care how I'm treated at all, as long as his precious weapon is safe from Death Eaters. Hell... he very well DID know how they treated me all those years. He could have known and left me there anyway!_

Harry felt prickles of pain in his palms and looked down to realize he had clenched his hands into such tight fists that he now had four crescent shaped gouges into each of his palms from his fingernails. He quickly unclenched his hands and stared down at the tiny beads of blood forming at the tiny wounds.

_Weapon_.

That's what he was to Dumbledore, wasn't it? He was the one who had been prophecized to destroy Voldemort – Dumbledore's ultimate enemy. Harry was nothing more than a weapon to be _used_ to defeat Voldemort.

He could feel his anger boiling inside his veins all all the pieces began to fit together in his mind. His magic was beginning to swirl, dangerously around him and the plates and silverware on the table around him began to rattle. Even behind him on the Hufflepuff table. Harry blinked and his eyes widened in horror at what he was doing. He was going to blow everything if he let his rage get out of control in somewhere as public as the Great Hall!

He locked his jaw and took in slow breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself down and pull the magic back inside him, and under his control.

"Blimey! What was that?" he heard Ron's voice as if it were underwater. His head was still pounding from his fury, and the strain of holding it back when it so desperately wanted to explode. He was angry. He wanted to _hurt_ someone.

"I don't know... that was odd," came Hermione's muffled voice next. Some more murmurs passed around him, but he was too busy trying to think of something less infuriating than Dumbledore, to pay them any mind. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind just kept swirling around the idea of the old goat's manipulations.

He had treated Harry like a pawn! The world was a giant chessboard to Dumbledore and people were his pieces. Voldemort was much the same, but the Death Eaters _knew_ they were being used. They _knew_ they were pieces in a grander scheme and participated willingly.

Dumbledore tricked people into playing his game for him.

He had tricked Harry. Tricked him again and again. Used him. Manipulated him. _Lying deceitful old man!_

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione's concerned voice broke through his haze and he looked up at her and blinked owlishly.

"Huh?"

"You... don't look so good. Are you okay?"

"I..." Harry paused and took a slow breath. "No. I'm feeling kind of sick, to be honest with you... I think I'm gonna beg off from History of Magic. I think I'd pass out if I showed up, anyway. I need some more sleep. I think everything is starting to catch up with me. Can you tell Professor Binns why I'm gone?"

Hermione looked stunned, but then it was instantly replaced with concern. "Of course! What do you think is wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

"I just really need some rest, I think. I'll be okay."

"Will you be skiving off Charms too?" Ron asked from across the table.

"He's not skiving, Ronald!" Hermione snapped.

"I... I'm not sure. If I'm feeling better by second block I'll head in, but if not, will you let Professor Flitwick know why I'm gone?"

"Of course!" Hermione said.

"I hope for your sake that you're better before the end of lunch," Ron began to say through a mouth full of food. "If you miss potions, Snape'll give you a detention – sick or not."

Harry rolled his eyes, and gave them a weak grin. "Yeah, I'll make sure to drag myself out of bed by then. Hopefully I'll be feeling better by then."

He began to stand up and grabbed his bag.

"Thanks guys, I'll see you later."

Hermione looked legitimately worried, but let him go.

He left the Great Hall and hurried towards the Grand Staircase. The anger was still boiling away inside, just under the surface, and he knew exactly what would help him burn off his rage. A frighteningly evil smirk graced his lips for a second before he masked it away.

Time to go pay a little beetle a visit.

– –


	11. Chapter 11

WARNING:

- This chapter contains an explicit torture scene. You have been warned.

– –

Harry set his bag down gently on the hard stone floor and bent down to rummage inside it for his bound notebook and the book on containment wards he'd taken from his trunk. He made sure that the glass jar was still wrapped up I the black robes at the bottom of the bag.

He opened his notebook and flipped through the pages to the section where he had made notes on the some of the spells he intended to make use of. The first one was the Homorphus charm that would force dear Rita back into her human form and prevent her from turning back for about an hour as long as he put enough power and intent into the spell.

He set the notebook, still open, to the side and then turned to the wards book. He had marked the page with the spell he wanted to use, so he was able to get to it right away. It would create a solid magical field around a space he designated, and no one would be able to leave or enter it until he canceled the spell. He didn't think that it was terribly likely that Rita would be getting away from him, but he figured the added precaution was wise, and it took very little effort to cast and maintain, so he saw no reason not to.

He reread the passage quickly and then began walking around the chamber, swishing his wand in the shape of the described runes as he went and muttering a chant under his breath.

Once he had walked the perimeter – which only took a minute since he wasn't warding a very large space – he returned to the center and forced out a focused wave of his magic to complete the spell.

He could _feel_ the magical walls that now surrounded him, as they resonated with his magic. He had no idea how talented Rita was with detecting magical auras or signatures, so he wouldn't know if she would be able to sense the barriers or not. He supposed he would find out if and when she was unfortunate enough to walk into one.

He snickered.

Satisfied that the cell was now in place, he set the warding book back into his bag and picked his notebook back up.

He read over the list of spells that he had been itching to try. He wanted to see what they were really like. What it felt like to _really_ cast them. His heart was racing in sick anticipation and he was possessed with a sadistic glee at the prospect of finally having a living human target to try them out on.

A giant snake corpse was fine and dandy for target practice and absorbing some of the magical impact, but it didn't provide nearly as satisfying a target. Nor did it actually _work_ for a large number of spells.

He ran his fingers over the surface of the bound parchment with a strange reverence as a giddy urge to giggle began to bubble up from his stomach. He was getting _excited._ So very excited.

A small voice in the back of his mind was protesting weakly. It was one thing to attack the corpse of a snake, but he was about to use these spells on a real, live, human being. A person.

A person who would not be leaving this room alive.

That was a fact that he needed to come to terms with, for sure, before starting. Because once he began, there was no going back. No changing his mind. He didn't intend to use the instantly lethal spells simply because he wanted to draw this out and practice as much as he could manage on the woman before she could no longer take any more. But in the end, he would kill her.

It wasn't even really anything personal. She was just convenient. Sure, he hated her. But he wasn't going to kill her because she had written those articles about him. He was going to kill her because she was there, and no one would be able to link her death to him.

He looked at the list one more time and felt his magic flaring up with eager anticipation.

He was set. There was no going back. He... he _wanted_ this. _Needed it._ His skin was crawling with the raw _need_ to feel her life slipping away by his hands. He wanted to see if he could really do it. He could feel himself being consumed with the intense hunger for death and pain that the dark magic left in him. He felt starved for it.

Being so close to actually committing the act was like standing in the middle of an desert, facing an oasis after depriving himself of water for a lifetime. He couldn't stop now. He wanted it too badly.

He set the book down beside his book and pulled out the jar, still wrapped in the black cloak.

He walked to the center of the room, not too far from the basilisk's corpse and set it down while slowly removing the cloth.

The beetle within instantly began flitting around the inside of the jar with mad desperation.

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the jar. A silent incantation and a simple wand movement later and the glass melted away as if it were wax before dissolving into a cloud of wispy smoke. The beetle instantly bolted, but she was obviously confused as to her whereabouts or how to properly leave because she circled the space wildly for a moment.

Harry tracked her with his wand for a second before casting the homorphus charm and hitting her on the first try. The spell sent her suddenly increasing in size and then falling heavily to the ground in a sputtering heap.

She gasped and turned her head from side to side in obvious panic before spinning around in her place on the dirty stone floor to face him.

Her eyes were wide and consumed with desperation for a moment before she tried to take on an air of innocence.

"Harry," she said in a simpering voice as she tried to smile and began to try and pull herself to her feet.

He pointed his wand at her lazily and said _"Adstringo,"_

Her eyes bugged out as she her arms and legs were suddenly bound to her side by an invisible force. Next he flicked his wand and incanted "_ponere" _although it didn't seem to have any visible effect.

"Do you know what that was?" he asked with a smirk as he began to slowly stroll around her prone form on the floor. "The _Ponere_ charm is a dark spell that allows me to put you into any position I wish, and you will be unable to move. Adstringo is sort of a mix between a binding spell, and a petrifying spell. Can't move. Can't talk. It's better than some lesser binding spells since it binds the person with magic, instead of conjuring a rope or a chain or something that could be cut through or banished. Of course, to maintain the binding, I have to continue to focus my magic. _But..._ since I've now set the posable curse on you, I don't need you bound anymore so..."

He drawled off as he flicked his wand and released the thread of magic that had been holding her bound and released it.

Suddenly her face switched form frozen surprise, to pure panic and fear. "Harry... Harry please. Think about what you're doing. We're both mature, rational people here. It was never anything personal, I was just doing my –"

"_Silentium!"_ Harry drawled lazily along with a flick of his wand. Her mouth continued to move, but there was no longer any sound coming out. Her panicked expression became rather indignant for an instant before returning to fear and caution.

He began to stroll over to her and her wide eyes tracked his every moment. He came up beside her and used his foot to roll her onto her back.

"You see, Rita... that's where you're wrong. I may be mature, but I don't honestly think I'm being particularly rational. And while I would argue that it _was_ personal, this little encounter that we're having here has almost nothing at all to do with your idiotic little scribblings in the paper."

He crouched down and reached out, cupping the side of her head with his hand and moved her head so that he could look directly into her eyes. "Now before we go any further, I need to ask you a few... _questions_. And you _will_ be answering them. How about a little... _obedience_," he said with a smirk and he brought his wand up to her temple. _"Pareo!"_

Her eyes glazed over and Harry felt the glee course through him. It was working and it was _so_ easy.

Tingling precursors to the euphoria of dark magic began to dance through his belly and his head lulled back for a second as he let himself enjoy the curiously enjoyable tickling sensation just under the surface of his skin.

He refocused on his task and released the silencing spell he had cast over her a moment ago.

"Now Rita, I want you to tell me something. Does anyone else know about your animagus form?"

She blinked groggily and her head turned slowly. "Nn...noo," she said in a strangely tired voice. He grinned.

"And does anyone know that you've been sneaking into Hogwarts?"

"N...noo..."

"So... no one has _any idea_ where you are?"

"No one," she said in a weak breathy voice before she squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered.

He ceased his support of her head with his hand and it ended up falling down on to the cold stone floor with a _thunk._

"Good," he said with a grin as he stood back up and flicked his wand, releasing the obedience spell.

She blinked owlishly in confusion for a moment before looking back up at him with fear in her eyes.

"What was that?" she gasped. He could tell from the way she was moving her head and neck – the only parts of her body she currently had any control over – that she was trying to struggle away from him, but couldn't. It made him want to cackle with delight at how utterly under his control she was.

"_That_, was an obedience spell. Fairly tricky bit of magic. I wasn't sure I could pull it off. I've never had an actual subject to test it on. But... that is why you're down here, after all," he ended with a wicked grin.

Her eyes widened and she began to dart them around the room. He watched as she began to fully register that she had absolutely no idea where she was. The moment she caught sight of the basilisk was so entertaining to watch, he almost burst out laughing.

She screamed. Of course she screamed. But what really surprised Harry was how much the sound sent a thrill coursing through his entire being. The pure terror that filled that voice was like honey on his tongue.

"Wha-! What! What is _that! Is that...? _Where am I!"

Harry began to giggle but stifled the sound and started slowly strolling towards the basilisk.

"_This _is a basilisk, _obviously._ I mean, _honestly_ Rita... how many magical serpents are capable of growing to over sixty feet in size? Not many."

"Wh.. how... where did it..."

"I killed it. In my second year, actually. It's remarkably well preserved, isn't it? Although I have been bringing about quite a significant amount of damage to it lately with all my practicing. It's sort of been my target dummy. It's been incredibly convenient in that regard, but it's just so _unsatisfying_ throwing curses at something that's already _dead._"

He turned to face her, still sprawled across the floor and looking up at him with dawning horror behind her wide eyes.

"You... you killed _that thing?"_ she said in a stuttered whisper.

"Oh yes. This is the Chamber of Secrets, by the way. Just in case you hadn't figured that out yet."

She gasped and her eyes darted around the large room again and landing on the enormous carved stone statue of Salazar Slytherin's head.

"The chamber..." she said in a whisper.

"It's been quite handy for me. It's beyond the normal wards of the school, and the room is unplottable. Nothing I do here can be detected by _anyone else._ The headmaster is completely blind to any goings on down here. And no one else can even get down here since only a parseltongue can open the door," he paused and smirked down at her. "That goes both ways, by the way. The doors are all closed and the only way to get out is for_ me_ to open them. Not that you could get away, anyway."

"P-please, Harry... we c-can work something out. I realize I was harsh... I was... I was so focused on the story that I didn't consider how it would effect _you._ But I.. I, see the error of my ways. I'll never write another thing about you, I swear it! We.. we can just put all of this behind us. We –"

Harry sighed in a bored tone and rolled his eyes while flicking his wand at her and casting another silencing charm.

"You have _such_ an annoying voice," he drawled.

He walked over to her prone figure and crouched down, grinning evilly down at her. "You're missing a rather important detail here, Rita. You see... I'm not doing this because you wrote those nasty things about me in the Prophet. I'm doing this because I have been just _dying_ to try out some of these _really fascinating_ spells I found, but the darnn basilisk corpse over there just isn't any good at all for testing them out on.

"I need a living, conscious, _human._ The basilisk works as target practice, but I can't see if the spell is actually doing what it's supposed to be doing, unless the person has the proper organs to melt, or the ability to feel the pain in just the right way. So you see... you coming along was just _so convenient_ that I simply _couldn't_ pass it up," he said all this in a calm soft tone, as if he were trying to explain something complicated to a young child. The whole time, Rita's face grew more and more horrified and he could see her mouth moving with silent words of protest.

He chuckled darkly and placed his hand on her cheek and gave her a condescending pat. "You see, Rita. It's _nothing personal."_

He stood up and walked over to his notebook, still open on the floor.

"Now lets see... which to try first... Oo... this one sounds fun. And it won't leave any lasting physical damage. Best to start small first. Don't want to use you all up with the first few spells, after all. It's called _Formidilio. _ Ever heard of it?It puts a person into a fit of terrifying visions until the spell is canceled. It's supposed to fill your mind with your worst fears... wonder what your worst fears are, Rita? Shall we find out?" he grinned down at her and leveled his wand.

Her mouth was working furiously, and tears were beginning to stream down her cheeks, but not a single sound was heard.

Harry made a lazy little shape with his wand and said _"Formidilio!"_ in an equally lazy tone before taking a step back as if it watch a show.

At first her eyes just darted around in panic. The tears began to flow more and more readily and her face quickly contorted in a horrifying scream. Again and again she screamed and bellowed, but no sound was made.

Harry's grin was growing wider and wider and his eyes were on _fire_ with sick delight. He bounced a few times on the balls of his feet before pulling out his wand. "Oh, I've just _got_ to hear this!" he said in a strangely gleeful eagerness. He canceled the silencing charm and the cavernous room was instantly filled the Rita's terrified shrieking and howling.

She blathered nonsense and wailed in horror. The longer Harry held the curse on her, and more and more powerful the dark magic coursed through his insides. It was like a dull roar, slowly growing more and more powerful. He began to cackle madly with a sick, twisted delight as the addictive feelings coursed through him. His cackles grew so loud, that it began to drown out her own terrified screams.

Finally Harry saw the signs that she might pass out soon, and instantly released the curse.

"Can't have you passing out on me so soon," he said with a giggle, as he fought to regain a semblance of control. "I still have _so much_ planned for you. Let's see... next up on my list isss... Ah. _Tussio Praefoco_. A spell that causes a fit of suffocating coughs. Good for rendering an enemy unable to properly aim or fight, without having to leave any lasting damage, or kill them. Pretty mild curse, really, but it could come in handy," he continued in a mild, analytical voice, and a disinterested look to him. However the second he trained his wand on her, the wicked glee returned to his eyes and Rita flinched and began to whimper again through her stifled sobs.

Five minutes of horrifically violent coughing and wheezing, that went so far as to result in coughing up quite a bit of blood, and Rita passed out from lack of oxygen. Harry released the _Tussio Praefoco_ curse and _Rennervated _her back to consciousness.

"That one wasn't so bad..." he said through his smirk and he walked in a slow circle around her. Her tired, fear-filled eyes tracked his every movement as she sniffed and hiccoughed.

"Next one is quick and simple. Lets see how easy _this_ one is to cast..." he said as he pointed his wand. She stiffened and her muffled cries were horse from the coughing.

"_Eructo Cruor!" _he shouted with blazing green eyes, alight with sick joy. Harry keened out and his head fell back as a rush of dark delicious magic shot through his body and out his wand, straight at Rita in a cork-screw shaped red jolt.

The second it hit her, she began to violently vomit blood, everywhere. Her body heaved involuntarily and she shook and cried out. It lasted only a moment, but the magical rush was so intense and Harry contemplated for a moment, doing it again.

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath, trying to recenter himself. He had to maintain some bit of control if he was going to get through all the spells he wanted to try before killing her. No fun in ending it all prematurely in a fit of madness.

And there were _so many_ he had been just _dying_ to try...

The next hour was spent going through all of the lesser curses he'd been curious about, but had never been able to really apply before now. Twisting and bending the magic to his will and reveling in the euphoric haze it put him in. Every nerve in his body was on fire with exquisite delight. He felt utterly intoxicated with it.

He cast _viscus expello_ on her, which caused her to instantly expel the contents of her bowels. He cleaned her up more as a service to himself than to her. He cast v_ormica morsus, _which caused horribly painful boils to appear all over her skin, and begin to erupt and burn. Her screams of agony only seemed to enhance the perverse pleasure he was taking in watching her suffer and writhe. Some part of him knew it was sick, but he just didn't care. He was too high from the magic coursing through him. It was all too amazing. Too euphoric to stop.

He cast _exustio morsus_ next, which did no actual physical harm, but caused the illusion in her mind that she was burning alive. The pain was enough that she actually passed out after only a minute, and it took him a solid three minutes afterwords of throwing _rennervates_ at her to get her to wake. When she finally _did_, he kicked her in the head to sooth his own irritated frustration at it having taken so long.

She was a blathering mess of tears, snot, and blood at this point, but Harry didn't seem to notice or care. He was getting excited again. He was drawing upon the nastier spells now and his eagerness was growing substantially.

The next thing he cast was actually a spell that would prevent her from falling unconscious. It was apparently a very commonly used spell when dishing out torture. When you're intention is to dish out punishment, it does no good at all for the person to simply pass out and escape the pain.

And constantly pausing in your curses to cast _rennervates_ was too bothersome to keep dealing with.

The spell put a mild drain on his magic, since it would remain linked to him until he finally allowed her the respite of unconsciousness... or death. But it was minimal, and since it was a particularly dark bit of magic, the gentle tug on his magic was like a constant, dull, tingly warmth. He found he quite liked it, and it was a reminder that he was prolonging her suffering.

He knew that shouldn't please him. On some level, he still had some ability to acknowledge the moral base that 'normal' people lived their lives by... but he just couldn't find it in himself to actually _agree_ with those ideas anymore.

That thought made him frown for the briefest moment before he shoved it away to refocus on his task.

The next spell he cast was far more hands-on than the previous batches. It was called s_kyrdda excorio_, and it pealed back sections of skin, and shriveled the flesh beneath it. Slowly he shaved off layer after layer of skin from her legs, arms, and belly. Her screams were ear piercing, and yet they were also frighteningly lovely.

He got so lost in the moment that he realized if he didn't stop soon, she was likely to bleed to death, so he stopped and threw a few _episci_ healing spells at some of the deeper gouges.

_Fervefacio_ was a curse that literally _melted_ flesh, and he began applying that to her fingers and hands. He watched with an perverse fascination as the skin, and muscle melted off her fingers, exposing tendons and bones. He couldn't help but think to himself that this would be an incredibly interesting way to learn human anatomy.

Rita's voice was hoarse by now, but her screams still came.

Next, just for the hell of it, he decided that he would try throwing a _crucio_ at her. It was a foundation of the dark arts repertoire, after all, and it would be embarrassing if he could cast a _exustio_, but not pull of a _crucio_.

The moment he had cast the first one at her, he knew exactly why it was so bloody popular.

It certainly wasn't an easy spell to cast, but the way the dark magic utterly consumed him, and coursed through every vein of his body with the most powerful, dark, raw magic he had ever felt, left him breathless and panting on the floor. The greater the pain he threw upon his victim, the greater his bliss.

He was utterly stunned at how powerful it was. It had been weeks since a dark spell had sent him to his knees. Rita was still screaming and he realized through his haze that the spell was still active. His head was buzzing with noise and a whirlwind of pleasure and feelings that were too complex for him to make sense of at the moment. He realized that his breath was still coming in heavy pants and his back was arched off the ground. He forced himself to regain enough of his senses to cancel the spell, and both he and Rita collapsed.

Rita was crying and her body was twitching in pain-induced muscles spasms. Harry felt as if he had melted into a puddle of warm goo from the overload of feelings on his already raw senses. It was.. indescribable. It was so bloody amazing. How could anyone do any _other_ kind of magic? But he supposed that's why they didn't teach the dark arts in schools. If people were exposed to this, they would never want to let it go.

Instead, they ban the teaching of it. And the Ministry bans the practice of it! To deny people from this delicious form of ecstasy was what should be criminal!

He recovered and looked over at the shaking, horrifically mutilated woman laying several feet from him in a puddle of her own blood and bodily fluids.

A giggle bubbled up in him, and he tried to stifle it, but it only turned into a snort, and then a chuckle.

Merlin, she was so weak. So pathetic. Not once could she even try to fight back. She had never stood a chance. She was nothing to him. Nothing at all.

He stood to his feet and stared down at her for a long moment. Watching her twitches. Observing the blood as it continued to pool and congeal. Examining the bits of skin that were pealed back and all shriveled looking.

So pathetic.

So easy.

He rose his wand and her eyes managed to catch the movement. Her cries and sobs renewed ten fold.

"Oh, dear sweet Rita. No worries, love. I think I'm done with you now. Would you like that? Shall I put you out of your misery?"

She continued to cry and closed her eyes, pitifully.

"I wonder if I can pull this off... they say its an incredibly difficult spell to actually perform. It is unblockable, after all. They say that very few wizards succeed in casting it their first time. Or even their second or third. If it doesn't work out, I suppose I can just keep trying though, hmm? You're not going anywhere, after all. They do say that even if it fails at it's intended purpose, the spell is still quite painful... I guess we'll only find out if I try, hmm?"

His eyes began to glow and the magic began to swirl around him. He called it to him, pulling it from the deepest recesses of his soul and relishing in the indescribably delicious, inebriating quality that it filled him with. He leveled his wand, straight at her head and incanted...

"_Aveda kadavra."_

– – –

Hermione Jean Granger was not stupid, or blind. She prided herself on being a very clever and very observant young woman.

Her strengths had always been with book knowledge, and she would be the first to admit that her social skills were still somewhat lacking in some areas. She didn't always understand other people, but she had improved a lot over the years. She was a fast learner, after all, and once she had friends, she made it a point to learn how they operated, so as best to be their friend.

Her friendships were incredibly important to her, since up until Hogwarts, she had never really had any good friends.

She would also be the first to admit that at the start of this school year, she had mad a egregious mistake, in regards to her best friend, Harry Potter.

She had believed, just like everyone else, that Harry had done something reckless and stupid, to get his name into that Goblet, and enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Even when Harry denied it, she didn't believe him.

Harry rarely had much regard for rules, and had very little respect for authority figures, especially when whatever they dictated didn't suit Harry's needs at the time. All of the other boys in Gryffindor had been absolutely obsessed with that ridiculous tournament. Every one of them had desperately wished they could enter. They all wanted eternal glory. They all wanted the prize money. They wanted the challenge, and the opportunity to prove themselves brave and strong.

So she had simply assumed that Harry would be the same as all of his dorm mates and have wanted the very same thing. Only Harry was Harry, and if anyone would find a way to get around the rules, Harry would.

But she realized just how stupid her assumptions had been. Once she got over her fury at Harry doing another stupid thing that would put his life in danger, she woke up enough to realize that Harry would _never_ put his life in danger for something as petty as fame or money. Harry already _had_ fame and money, and he hated it. It was his modest, unassuming side that impressed her most about him sometimes.

Harry was humble. He was famous all throughout the magical world, but he never acted like it. In fact, any reminders of his fame only made him shy away from something.

No... when Harry stuck his neck out and put his life on the line, it was always for something that was _worth it._ He was always going out on a limb to save someone, even when it was almost guaranteed that the limb would snap out from beneath him and send him to his death along with whoever he was trying to save.

Harry didn't mind. Because any chance that he might save that person was worth to risk of personal injury.

But fame and glory? No... Harry wouldn't consider that worth the risk.

How had she been so blind? How could she abandon her first real friend over something so stupid and petty, when he was in such dire need of a friend?

She had realized her mistake after a month, but Harry wouldn't even look at her by then. She had tried on a few occasions to talk with him, but could never manage to get alone with him.

She had tried talking sense into Ron, but he had been stubborn and pig-headed. He wasn't angry with Harry for putting breaking the rules or himself in danger, like she had been; no Ron was angry because Harry hadn't shared whatever trick or spell he had used to enter the tournament with Ron. No matter what Hermione said to Ron, she couldn't convince him that _just maybe, _Harry really hadn't done _anything_, and someone else had rigged it so Harry was forced to participate.

Hermione kept herself distracted by throwing herself headlong into her latest passion – fighting for house elf rights, but that only took her mind off of her troubles with Harry when she kept herself busy. And Ron did nothing but openly mock her efforts with S.P.E.W.

During the time between Halloween, and the first task, Harry kept to himself, all the time. He seemed to avoid contact with anyone else, at all costs. He went to classes, and rushed through his meals in the Great Hall, and then quickly disappeared to his dorm room, or the library. He avoided everyone like the plague, and no matter what she did, she couldn't find a way to apologize.

The events of the first task had been a considerable shock. She hadn't known what to make of the fact that Harry had used _parseltongue_ of all things, to survive. She had never heard that dragons spoke parseltongue before. She even looked it up in a large number of books afterwards and found absolutely no references to it anywhere.

She wondered where Harry had figured it out from.

The task with the dragons had made Ron finally realize that the tournament wasn't all glory and fame. It was danger, and horrific burns, and complex spells that, as forth years, they couldn't hope to be familiar enough with to survive.

But despite his realization that Harry just may not have entered the tournament after all, his overall freaked-out-ness over Harry's use of parseltongue had kept him from going to Harry right away.

Hermione was actually surprised when Ron came to her, asking if she would go with him to try and corner Harry so they could apologize. Harry hadn't wanted to accept it. He was angry. He was _so _angry, and betrayed and Hermione was consumed with the most horrifying fear that she might have completely screwed things up, forever. That she had lost her first, best, friend.

She cried herself to sleep so many times as her mind was consumed with what-if's and if-only's.

Therefore the day that Harry told her that they were 'alright', she had been so incredibly elated and happy that she had finally been forgiven, and things could finally begin to go back to the way they were before.

But they didn't.

Not really. Harry was... different. During their time apart, she had noticed several changes, but attributed it mostly to him being alone. He was more studious, and got all of his homework done alone, and without anyone else's assistance. He had also begun to perform considerably better in classes.

This trend remained the same. It was as if Harry had suddenly rediscovered his magic. He had always been so easily distracted before. It would take him many many times, practicing repeatedly, to accomplish any spell introduced in class. Now he was able to get them with only a few attempts. He answered questions in class easily, and actually seemed _interested_ in the subject matter.

She had actually been rather excited in the beginning. She finally had someone who could hold an intelligent conversation with about magical theory! And it was Harry! She was elated to have this new thing to share with her friend.

Despite him having taken her and Ron back as friends, and despite their new connection on an intellectual level, Harry remained distant. He was quiet and contemplative. He would still join in on conversations at meals, and in the common room, but it always seemed so forced.

He acted like he was paying attention to them, but she suspected that he was just _humoring_ them. She doubted Harry was even legitimately aware of all the work she had done lately towards spreading word on the house elf enslavement! When she did speak to him about it, and he spoke with her on it, it was as if he wasn't even listening. When he did respond, any sign that he actually _cared_ about it seemed entirely faked.

At least Ron's open disregard for the house elves was honest. Harry's faked care bordered on insulting! How could he not care?

And he was spending so much time alone, working on preparations for the next task! It was also strange that he refused to tell her anything about it. Now that they were friends again, she had expected him to ask for her assistance with spells and research, but he insisted on doing everything alone.

She dismissed it at first, since he had had to do all of his preparation for the first task alone, so he probably felt comfortable doing the second task alone too. But they were there for him now! Why couldn't he just ask them for assistance? And why wouldn't he tell them what he was doing?

She just couldn't understand it.

Since they were all going to be staying behind for the holidays, she thought it would give her a chance to spend more time with Harry, but the opposite had been true. Harry was gone _so much_ during their winter break. And she had absolutely no idea where he was going.

He kept telling them that he was going to the dungeons to work on a potion he was brewing, but several time she had gone down to offer her assistance, only to find the room empty.

The fact that Harry was clearly hiding some things from her concerned her, so she was considerably relieved when he trusted her enough to reveal what was probably an enormous secret. An utterly shocking secret at that.

Harry... _her Harry... _was gay.

She really had not seen it coming, and she had to admit that a tiny piece deep inside her was a bit disappointed by it. When Harry had first saved her from the troll, all those years ago in their first year, she had developed a bit of a crush on the raven-haired boy with piercing green eyes.

She had gotten over it quickly, but there had always been a lingering feel in her. She knew it was especially silly now that she was beginning to develop surprisingly strong feelings for Viktor.

She had never expected _that_ to happen... but it had. The Bulgarian quidditch star had sought her out in the library frequently since first term, and she never quite understood why he bothered.

But he did. And while it was shocking, it was also flattering. And Viktor was quite good looking, even if he wasn't much of a conversationalist. His English was improving though...

And Harry. Sweet Harry. Gay. While she was surprised, she certainly had nothing against it. She was surprised with how easily he spoke of it, she was most impressed with how he handled being unwittingly outed, after the holiday break was over.

But during the actual holidays, when Hermione had hoped that she would finally get to spend some time reacquainting herself with her friend, Harry had remained distant. Hermione ended up spending her holidays working on S.P.E.W. and nagging Ron to be responsible for once in his life and actually get his homework done before the last day of their break.

Christmas arrived and the gifts were predictably thoughtful. The dance was that evening, and it was absolutely lovely. Hermione was utterly _stunned_ to watch Harry with Fleur.

Where had that shy little boy gone? He had been replaced with a roguish young man who was brimming with confidence. He had a cocky swagger to his step, and a devilish grin on his lips almost the whole night.

And the way he _moved!_ How had Harry learned to dance like that? She had been impressed with his leading at the dancing lesson, but that had only covered the traditional waltz. Harry caught on to more modern dancing with surprising ease and a fluid grace she had never seen in her friend. The way he and Fleur moved together on the dance floor sent flutters through her stomach a few times, and she had been forced to divert her eyes and turn her head to hid her blush.

If she hadn't known that Harry fancied boys, she would have seriously wondered about the way he and Fleur were dancing.

Fleur was clearly enjoying herself tremendously, and Hermione actually wished, for the briefest of moments, that _she_ could have been Harry's date for the night. But she was still undeniably enjoying herself with Viktor, so she quickly pushed that thought away quickly.

The night would have been perfect if not for Ron being... well, _Ron._ He wasted the dance acting like a pig-headed idiot, who was too embarrassed and stubborn to actually _enjoy_ the dance himself, but was then bitter and angry that his friends had enjoyed themselves despite him. He was also clearly jealous and upset that Hermione had gone to the dance with Viktor. What exactly _that_ meant, was debatable.

If Ron fancied Hermione, he was too thick to realize it. And too stubborn to do anything about it. Hermione was certainly not going to stand around and wait for her emotionally stunted friend to realize what his feelings meant.

Following the winter holidays things with Harry began to get even more strange. He continued to disappear for long periods of time and no one could find him. He was even more withdrawn than before, and she often caught him scowling or glaring at someone when he thought no one was looking.

He snickered and chuckled under his breath at things that he never would have found humorous before. He had even chuckled when Malfoy had thrown something into Seamus's cauldron one day in potions and it had gone and exploded on him.

Hermione just didn't know what to make of the changes. On one hand, Harry was doing better in his classes than ever before, and was dedicated to his studies. But his personality seemed to be fundamentally shifting.

Ron was far from pleased by the changes in their friend. Harry no longer seemed to care about going flying or talking about Quidditch. He almost never agreed to play exploding snap, and even less often agreed to play chess. As far as Ron was concerned, it was as if he had lost his friend all over again.

But Hermione was worried about a lot more than just Harry suddenly not caring about Quidditch. In recently months, she had taken to worrying a lot about some strange ticks that Harry had picked up.

As the afternoon would draw nearer, Harry would begin twitching as if he was eager for something. He would sit through his last block of the afternoon with his knee bouncing up and down rapidly, and gnawing away at his fingernails. He would shift his position in his chair, over and over again, never able to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time.

He would scowl at the professors. Scowl at his classmates when they asked questions that caused things to drag on. Scowl at the clock on the wall. But the moment someone actually spoke to him, he would throw up a calm, genial mask. He would smile, and joke and act as if nothing was wrong at all.

He always rushed through his dinner, and those anxious ticks would quickly make another appearance. Whenever something came up that prevented him from running off and disappearing to wherever it was that he disappeared to, he would get a tight pinched look to his face, and his eyes would take on a sharp glare.

She saw him lose his temper only a few times, and it usually only happened when he didn't think that there was anyone nearby to witness it. Someone – usually a Slytherin, but it had occasionally been someone from one of the other houses – would say something to push Harry's buttons and he would lash out... _violently._ Hermione had only born witness to this three times, but each subsequent event had been more intense then the last and it made her stomach clench uncomfortably to see her nice, sweet, Harry, react so angrily.

She could only assume that there had been more instances than the ones she had witnessed. One thing she was sure of was that something had happened between Harry and Draco Malfoy, because the blond, egotistical pure-blood had been avoiding Harry like the plague for two months now.

Hermione kept telling herself that the stress from the tournament had to be effecting Harry. The pressure, and the fear of the danger it posed. The fact that _someone _had to be out to get him. That this _someone_ had placed his name in the cup for a reason, and that reason was most likely to get Harry killed.

She hoped that once the task was over with, some of the secrecy would leave with it. She had believed her hopes granted when Harry finally told her and Ron about him having become an animagus, the day after the 2nd task.

She was hurt that he hadn't told them before then. Shocked that he had managed to keep such a huge thing secret for more than _a year!_ But she finally thought she understood why Harry was always running off and disappearing. He had been training to become an animagus. Finally things made sense.

But they didn't. Not really. And most confusing of all, he was still running off to Merlin knows where every single evening, even though it was now a week and a half since the second task. Harry no longer had to train for that task, and he wouldn't have any idea what the third task was for more than two months. He had also mastered his animagus transformation, so that wasn't the reason for his absence either.

So if Harry wasn't training his animagus ability, and wasn't training for the third task. What was Harry doing?

What other huge secret was he keeping from them? Having become an animagus seemed _huge_ to Hermione, and it only made her wonder... what else was Harry working on? Was it just as monumental as his other secret? Would it be just as shocking?

And why did he still refuse to share it with her or Ron? Why was he lying and making up lame excuses for his disappearances?

And for that matter... where on earth was he going!

She had tried to follow him a number of times over the past two months, but had never had any luck. He would always lose her right away. It was obvious that Harry was using his invisibility cloak to sneak around, which really only brought up more questions.

Hermione had feared that she had lost her first and best friend after her terrible mistake on Halloween night. She had hoped that Harry had forgiven her, just before the winter holidays, and had been optimistic that things would finally go back to normal. But now she wasn't so sure. She wasn't sure if things would _ever_ go back to normal.

And she had a sinking suspicion that Harry would never truly trust her again. Would he ever openly share his secrets with her again? Would she ever regain his trust, or had she truly blown it?

These were the thoughts going through Hermione's mind as she watched Harry enter the Great Hall for lunch that day. Harry never skived off classes, so the fact that he had missed History of Magic and Charms that morning was decidedly odd.

She watched him speculatively as he walked with a strange, fluid grace towards the table. His head was bowed low but as he approached she caught a glimpse of his face, and his eyes were bright and _wild._

He seemed to be fighting off an almost crazed grin that sent a shiver down her spine. As soon as he sat down and rose his head to the others, the expression was gone and replaced with a look of fatigue.

Had she imagined it?

She had never thought of Harry as a particularly good actor in previous years. He always wore his emotions on his sleeve. He often brooded quietly to himself, but Hermione prided herself on being able to read him pretty well. But that had all changed his year. Now she wasn't sure if she could read him at all.

"Are you feeling better, Harry?" she asked, hesitantly.

He looked over at her and gave her a soft, kind smile and nodded his head. "Yeah... loads, actually. The nap really did me good."

She smiled back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was worried... really worried. But for once in her life, she had absolutely no answers. She didn't know how to fix this. All she could do was keep watching him and try to find out what it was that was going on with Harry. What was bothering him... and what he was hiding.

– –

Harry laid down in bed that night still feeling the rush from his earlier activities. He was practically jumping out of his skin, and seriously doubted that he would be sleeping anytime soon. He needed to calm down and relax. He knew the best way to do that was to slip into his mindscape and relax in his companion's arms, but he was anxious and hesitant to do just that because he knew that as soon as he went in there, he would have to face his realization earlier that morning that his companion was probably a lot more than just some of Voldemort's power.

Finally accepting that he couldn't hide from the truth any longer, Harry pulled his bed hangings closed, lay back into his bed covers and mountain of pillows and slipped into his mindscape.

It was dark there now and the mist stretched far and wide. It wasn't pitch black, but more like the mild illumination one would find during twilight. The 'sky' or 'ceiling' gradually faded into blackness. The corner where the once-small 'dark spot' resided, was a void of blackness, but there was nothing scary or unsettling about the area. It was comforting, if anything.

Harry made his way to where the black silhouetted form of his companion was standing, facing away from him. As Harry drew closer his companion turned slowly.

_Hello... Harry_, the breathy voice echoed through the expansive space and Harry had to suppress a shudder that the voice sent through his spine. His companion stretched his arms out, becoming Harry forward and he quickly made his way over.

His companion pulled him down into the couch-like area that they spent most of their time, whenever Harry was inside his own mindscape. His companion was sitting back first, and Harry lay back into him, his back to the solid black silhouetted body of his companion. Black arms wrapped around Harry's middle and pulled him back into the other being chest.

The gesture was intimate, calming, and instantly relaxed Harry's frazzled nerves.

No matter what came of this discussion, it wouldn't change anything. Not really. Harry knew he would not give this up for anything.

_You are... troubled..._

Harry sighed and nodded his head.

"_I... what are you? Exactly?"_ Harry asked after a long silent moment.

_Do you truly... not know?_

Harry pulled his lip between his teeth and looked off into the dark distance.

"_I don't know... maybe. Can you just answer the question?" _Harry said with a pouty scowl.

_I suppose. I am... a sliver... of Voldemort's... soul._

Harry blinked. His _soul?_ Harry frowned._ "How did you end up in me?" _he asked.

_When... he tried... to kill you. I broke off... The act... of murder... it can shatter the soul... if you so desire it. You can take those pieces... and magically bind them... to an object... or... person._

"_But why would he do that?"_ Harry asked, in bewilderment.

_As long... as some portion... of the soul... is bound to this world... none of it can leave. Even if... the body has... been destroyed._

Harry leaned back and processed this latest revelation. Honestly rather stunned. _"That's why he didn't die. Because you were in me."_

_Yes... But I don't think... that he... realizes this. My binding... to you... it was unintentional._

Harry paused, going over in his mind the different questions he now had, swirling around in it. He was a little surprised at how little it bothered him to realize that a portion of the Dark Lord's soul was inside him. Rationally, he knew this should really be freaking him out and yet... it wasn't.

"_Do you have his memories? His knowledge?"_

_I... possessss ssome... fragments... and only from before.. I was split off._

"_Are you really a separate person from him? You say 'him' like he's not you, but you're a piece of his soul."_

_He and I... are one... in some ways... and are two, in others. I only represent certain... fragments of who... he is... the parts... he considers... weak. He tried to cast those pieces out... to become stronger... I have also spent... the last thirteen yearsss... with you. I have seen through your eyesss... even when... I was kept behind... walls. Kept separate... I was still with you. I have exsssisted separate from him... for many yearsss... so I am not... entirely him._

Harry nodded his head and began to lazily trace his fingers along one of the black arms, wrapped around his middle. _"That makes sense..."_ Harry mused quietly. _"So... do you know what his task is? What this thing is that he has to do?"_

_He is the Dark Lord..._

Harry waited, expecting for there to be more, but when it became clear that there wasn't, he pressed on. _"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"_

_Magic herself deemed him so. He mussst work towards the task... that the Lord of Dark Magic is always tasked with._

This, Harry had not expected. He had never realized that Voldemort being called the 'Dark Lord' had more meaning than him just being a very powerful, and arguably overly egotistical dark wizard. He had always figured that Voldemort had simply claimed the title of 'Lord' because he thought himself worthy of it because of his greater magical power level and desire to lead. Harry had never realized that the title actually _meant something._

"_And what task, exactly, is that?" _Harry pressed on, getting more eager and curious by the minute.

_Maintain... balance... Control... and restrain... the Light. Keep magic... out of the hands... of those not deemed worthy... when they steal the magics... from us... the End will come..._

"_I... don't think I quite get it..." _Harry said, slowly.

_It is.. old. Old ways... old magics... old laws... laws that wizards have forgotten... that the Light has forgotten... they have lossst their way. Lost sight of where... our magics come from... the deal that was struck... the agreement our ancestors agreed to... Their ignorance... will cost us the power... to save ourselves. They will bring the End upon us all..._

Harry nodded his head very slowly, although admittedly, this really hadn't cleared up much of anything. He was still greatly confused, and knew he was missing a lot of the context necessary for any of it to ever make sense. He also doubted that his companion could ever effectively clear it up for him. He was good company, but a conversationalist, he was _not_.

"_Alright... er... thank you. Can you tell me the prophecy?"_

_Unfortunately... the precise wording of it... did not completely stay... with me._

"_But there was a prophecy, right? And it was about me?"_

_Yesss..._

"_It said I would defeat Voldemort?" _Harry prodded, disbelievingly.

_It said... you would have... the power to do it..._

"_But it didn't say that I would?"_

_I... do not know... The full prophecy... was kept hidden from usss... Voldemort never... learned the entire... thing... only half..._

Harry scowled lightly.

"_Well, who knows the whole thing?"_

_Dumbledore..._

Harry's scowl morphed, instantly, into a deathly glare. _Of course_ it would be the old man. Harry wondered if Dumbledore was the only one who knew. If he was, that would make it exceedingly difficult for Harry to find out any details about it.

Harry sighed and let his head fall back onto his companion's shoulder.

"_Is there anywhere I can look to find more information on this old magic? The stuff about the Dark Lord's task, or the er... agreement or whatever else you mentioned?"_

His companion remained silent, and Harry wondered if he would get an answer at all.

_The chamber... there is a book..._

Harry perked up instantly. _"Really? Which book?"_

_It is... hidden._

_...I will show you how... to find it..._

Harry's excitement and curiosity was peaked. He began making plans for spending Saturday down in the chamber reading this new hidden book, when he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to meet Sirius down in Hogsmeade the next day. He almost growled in annoyance, but managed to hold it in.

He hadn't seen Sirius since the firecall the week after Halloween, and he hadn't seen his godfather in person since the previous spring when Harry had helped him escape on Buckbeak. If he really was going to get to see Sirius in person, he should be excited about it. And he was... really. He just had a lot of other things going on in his life.

Harry huffed out another sigh and let himself sink back into his companion's arms, willing himself to relax. He needed to sleep. He was still a bit wound up from his session with Rita that morning, and if he didn't start focusing on clearing his mind and calming down, he wouldn't get to sleep for hours.

Merlin it had been an insane day... He had had a vision where Voldemort spoke with Nagini and Harry began to discover and make sense of the man's motives in a way he never had before.

He had discovered that Sirius was going to sneak into Hogsmeade somehow the following day. He had come to understand a bit more, the extent to which Dumbledore had fucked with his life and had a moment of insane rage at the damned old fool. And then... bloody hell... he had killed Rita.

He had murdered someone today.

It was strange how blasé the sentence was uttered in his mind. How little effect it had on him to think the words. How little meaning it had.

There really was something wrong with him... wasn't there?

"_Is this because of you? Because I've... I don't know... accepted or... embraced you?"_

_Is what... because... of me?_

"_The way that I've changed... the... it was so easy for me to kill Rita today. I don't even feel the slightest bit bad about it. I'd do it again without any hesitation. It was easy."_

_That may... be the influence... of Voldemort... of Me..._

Harry nodded his head again in a strangely calm and accepting manor.

"_Okay."_

_Does that... upset you?_

"_Oddly enough? No."_

– –


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

The next morning after breakfast Harry headed for the kitchens with Ron and Hermione in tow. He was slightly surprised that neither of them knew where the Hogwarts kitchens were, or how to gain access to them; especially considering all the nonsense that Hermione had been going on about all year with the bloody house elves. Not that Harry had really been paying it any attention.

He actually hesitated in taking her in there since he was sure the sight of the room full of house elves, slaving over stoves and the like would result in some annoyingly long lecture about human rights and the evils of magical enslavement, but he really didn't have much choice. Sirius's letter had said to bring a lot of food, and the kitchen was obviously the best place to get it.

Harry had actually put some legitimate effort into ignoring Hermione's idiotic campaign to free the house elves all term, and as such, had also ignored the house elves themselves. This was why it was an honest surprise when he saw Winky, Mr. Crouch's house elf, in the corner in an obvious state of inebriation, holding a bottle of butter beer.

The other house elves were scampering about, quickly collecting food for the three Gryffindors, and Dobby was speaking excitedly with Hermione, but Harry's eyes were trained on the sick-looking little elf.

He had first seen her in the top box they sat at during the Quidditch World Cup. She was there to hold a seat for Mr. Crouch, but he had never showed up. And then after the mayhem with the Death Eaters and the dark mark in the sky, she had been found with Harry's wand, and accused of having cast the spell herself.

Mr. Crouch had fired her on the spot, and had seemed visibly furious with her. The whole thing had been terribly confusing at the time.

And now, she was working in the kitchens of Hogwarts? Or... well, not _working_ so much as getting wasted, but she was still _here._

Harry wondered if she knew anything about Crouch impersonating Moody...

"You ready, mate?"

Harry blinked and turned back to his two _friends _who were waiting for him expectantly. Ron was holding out a wrapped bundle of food from the house elves.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, taking on an excited, carefree mask as he took the bundle and shrunk it with his wand before sticking it into his bag.

The trio left the castle and began to make their way down the path towards Hogsmeade.

They busied themselves with window shopping for the morning. Harry spent some time in the local bookstore, but was extremely unimpressed by their selection. There wasn't a single 'questionable' book in the whole store.

He spotted a shadier looking little shop that several of the Slytherin students came in and out of, but he couldn't shake Ron or Hermione long enough to go check it out.

There was a small grocer in town that Harry had never had a need to visit before, but he slipped inside now and found a selection of magically preserved food that would last a few weeks. The food from the kitchens would help feel Sirius now, but from the desperate wording of his godfather's pleas, Harry could only assume that getting regular food was a problem for the man. The food he brought from Hogwarts wouldn't last more than a day or two, but the food he bought would last him quite a bit longer.

Hermione praised him on his planning and smart thinking but Harry just shrugged it off. It seemed like common sense to him.

He shrunk his purchases and added them to his bag.

At one thirty the trio headed down past Dervish and Banges towards the meeting spot described in Sirius's letter. As they neared it, Harry spotted a very familiar looking large black dog. The smile that spread across his face was authentic for once and he hurried his pace.

"Hey Snuffles," Harry said as he came up to his 'dogfather's' side and reached down to pet his messy matted fur.

Sirius was holding a collection of newspapers in his mouth and made an amused coughing sort of noise around them before turning away and making his way past the stile.

The trio climbed over and followed him out of town and towards the mountains on the outskirts of town.

The terrain grew rockier and rockier and harder to traverse, but Sirius just kept going. It took nearly a half hour before they came to a stop, and by that time, Hermione and Ron were distinctly out of breath. Even Harry felt his endurance reaching a limit, and was relieved when he saw the opening to a cave, and Sirius disappearing inside.

The trio entered and found Buckbeak the hippogriff inside, tied to a rock. The three bowed and waited until the half-eagle, half-horse beast had bowed back, showing his acceptance of them.

Ron and Hermione rushed over to pet him, but Harry turned his attention on Sirius, who had just finished transforming back into a human.

He was wearing the same gray robes that he had been a year prior. His hair was longer than it had been when he had fire-called hair in the fall, and it was matted and dirty. Sirius looked thinner, and clearly worn and exhausted.

"Are you out of your mind?" Harry asked.

"Excuse me?" Sirius responded, with a note of surprise.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

"Performing my duty as godfather."

"You're going to get caught!" Harry exclaimed.

"You three, and Dumbledore are the only ones aware of my animagus form. The villagers are coming to know me as a lovable stray. I can't take too much food though, or they'll start to notice."

Harry huffed and shook his head in mild exasperation. He slipped his bag off his shoulders, removed all of the food and began to unshrink it.

Sirius's eyebrows rose into his forehead, with apparent surprise at Harry's use of a fifth year charm – why, Harry couldn't imagine. He really didn't understand why shrinking things wasn't covered sooner. It's not like it was a _hard _spell_, _and it would have been damn useful to know in years prior, since he could have kept his trunk hidden away from his uncle...

The surprise at Harry's spellwork was lost as Sirius registered the mountain of food, and his stomach made a loud growling noise.

"Chicken!" the man gasped, hoarsely, with a relieved thrill in his tone.

"There's a bunch of preserved food in here too. It'll last you a couple weeks, I hope. Picked them up in the local food market," Harry said, pointing at the jars and boxes of varying nutritional options he had purchased. "Are you planning to stick around Hogsmeade?"

Sirius nodded as he began to tear into a chicken leg with much the same fury that his dog form would. "I wanted to be on the spot. What with your last letter... and other things, considered... Things are looking a bit too fishy lately. I wanted to stay close."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What _other things_, exactly?"

Sirius nodded his head towards a few yellowing newspapers on the cave floor a few feet away. Harry walked over and spread them out. There were two, but it was the first one that really caught his attention.

_Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch_

The second said, _Ministry Witch Still Missing – Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved._

Harry picked up the one about Crouch and began reading.

"What's the deal with Crouch?" Ron asked as he came to stand behind Harry and look over his shoulder.

"He hasn't shown up to work since November, apparently," Sirius said before taking another bite of chicken.

"Yeah... he didn't show up to judge the last task, either," Ron said, looking thoughtful. "My brother is his personal assistant and had to fill in for him."

Harry continued to skim the paper, and a few lines jumped out at him: _hasn't been seen in public since November... house appears deserted... St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment... Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness..._

"My brother did say that Crouch is suffering from overwork," Ron added.

"He _did _look rather ill when I saw him the night my name came out of the cup," Harry added absently. He figured that Crouch must have been using his illness as an excuse to cover for his absence while he impersonated Moody. He still had no idea why he was doing that though.

"Hey, Sirius?"

"Yeah, pup?"

"Do you know much about him? Crouch, I mean? What were his loyalties in the last war?"

"Oh I know quite a bit about him. And his loyalties were definitely with the light. He headed off quite the crusade against You-Know-Who and his followers. He was the one who sent me off to Azkaban – _without a trial_."

"What!" Ron and Hermione gasped together.

"Without a trial!" Harry exclaimed. "You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," Sirius said. "He's a great wizard, Crouch is, powerfully magical – and power-hungry. Definitely never a Voldemort supporter, though. Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side.

"Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning – I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers – powers to kill, rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without a trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you – plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..." Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's _son_ was caught?" gasped Hermione.

"Yes," Sirius said, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak before tearing into a loaf of bread. "Nasty shock to old Crouch, discovering that lil' Barty was a Death Eater."

Harry nearly choked. "What?"

Sirius blinked at Harry with confusion. "What, what?"

"What was Crouch's son's name?" Harry asked, shaking himself out of his moment of surprise.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr. But everyone called him Barty, from what I understand."

"Barty..." Harry breathed.

"Ringing some bells, pup?" Sirius asked, sitting up straighter.

"Er..." Harry faltered, "I'm not sure really. What happened with Crouch's son, anyway? Was he really a Death Eater?"

"I can't say for sure, but he was definitely seen with some people who I would guarantee were. As for what happened to him, Crouch tossed him into Azkaban."

Hermione gasped. "His own son!"

Sirius nodded, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though... they all went quiet in the end... except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry asked as his mind began working away furiously.

"No," Sirius said, dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

Harry paused. "He _died? _Are you sure?"

Sirius looked at Harry with a bit of confusion for a moment. "I'm sure, all right. He certainly wasn't the only one to die in Azkaban. Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, and they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw old Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up a flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic... next, his son dead, his wife dead, and the family named dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic towards the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

A silence descended upon the cave while the group processed Sirius's words, and Sirius continued to eat.

Theories and possible scenarios were flying through Harry's mind while he sat in the thick quiet. A man named 'Barty' was helping Voldemort. It was _his_ job to try and set up Harry's capture.

Bartemius Crouch was the one who had pushed to have the tournament reinstated. He was one of the people running the darn thing, and had loads of contact with the cup. He could have easily had the opportunity to put Harry's name into the goblet of fire.

But Bartemius Crouch Sr. actively fought against the Death Eaters and Voldemort, and he most certainly wasn't the man that Harry had seen with Voldemort, in his visions. Which meant that Barty Crouch was _not_ dead.

So Crouch Sr. and his wife had gone into Azkaban to visit their dying son. Crouch Sr. had left 'practically carrying' his wife. Barty had died, and the dementors had buried him. There had to be a body left behind, and Crouch's wife was reported dead shortly after Barty died.

Would Crouch Sr. actually have left his _wife_ in Azkaban and snuck his son _out?_ Crouch Sr. could have given Barty polyjuice potion to look like his wife, in order to sneak his son out of Azkaban, but polyjuice only lasts an hour, so that wouldn't have kept his wife looking like his son for very long

… Unless he killed his wife right after giving her the potion. The body doesn't revert if it's dead.

_Bloody hell..._

But what had he done with Barty since then? Kept him hidden somehow? Would Crouch Sr. really be helping his son, if his son was helping Voldemort? Perhaps Sr. was under the Imperius when he put Harry's name into the cup. And now he was missing because... he was dead? Or being held captive?

Harry didn't know. There were any number of different possible explanations.

But one thing was for sure. The Bartemius Crouch that Harry kept seeing on the map where Alastor Moody was supposed to be, was _not_ the man Harry had thought he was. He wasn't Crouch Sr., he was Barty!

"You alright there, Harry?" Sirius's voice broke through the thick fog of contemplation and Harry blinked.

"Huh? Oh yea... just thinking."

"Well, pup, we probably ought to discuss what you saw going on between Snape and Karkaroff," Sirius said, taking on a rather serious look to his face.

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry with confusion in their eyes.

"What is he talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh! I totally forgot to tell you two," Harry exclaimed, acting as if he honestly had just _forgotten_, and not that he had intentionally hidden it.

"I er... saw Snape and Karkaroff having an interestingly heated conversation a number of months ago. I was under my invisibility cloak, so neither knew I was there... I saw the two of them on the Map and got suspicious, so I went down into the dungeons to spy on them."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Harry, will you ever stop being so suspicious of Professor Snape? Do you honestly think that Dumbledore would –"

"He's a Death Eater," Harry said, cutting her off.

Ron's eyes went wide, but Hermione's face shifted instantly to disbelief. "He is not, Harry! That's ridiculous!"

"He is, Hermione! Or at least, he was. He's got the dark mark on his left forearm. So does Karkaroff. That's why they were talking. Apparently it's been getting clearer over the last few months and Karkaroff freaked out. He's scared. From the conversation I overheard, it sounds like Karkaroff is pretty convinced that Voldemort won't be particularly pleased with him. Said something about Dumbledore protecting Snape, but not having anyone to protect _him."_

Hermione's jaw had dropped and she was staring at Harry with stunned shock.

"You _saw_ it?" she gasped. "Are you sure!"

"Well... I saw it on Karkaroff's arm. He was holding up his sleeve and shoving his arm in Snape's face. But from what Snape said, it was obvious that he had a mark too."

"But you didn't actually _see_ the dark mark on Snape's arm?" Hermione said, pointedly.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron groaned. "Come off it already! Why do you keep defending him!"

"I just don't understand why Professor Snape would have saved Harry's life in first year, if he was really a Death Eater. If he was really loyal to You-Know-Who, he would have just let Harry die!"

"Yeah, well like Harry said, Dumbledore protects Snape, right? If Snape let Harry die, Dumbledore probably wouldn't keep protecting him, now would he?" Ron said, as he folded his arms over his chest, indignantly.

"Perhaps, but Professor Dumbledore wouldn't trust Professor Snape if he was really _loyal_ to You-Know-Who! Now would he?"

"Dumbledore doesn't know everything. He didn't know that You-Know-Who was on the back of Quirrell's head our whole first year, did he?"

_I don't know... did he? _Harry grumbled sarcastically, internally as he secretly scowled. Sometimes he really wondered...

"What do _you_ think, Sirius?" Harry said to try and put an end to Ron and Hermione's pointless bickering.

"I think they've both got a point," Sirius said, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid he was," Sirius added and Ron grinned. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names. "Rosier and Wilkes – they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges – they're a married couple – they're in Azkaban. Avery – from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse – he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never properly accused of being a Death Eater – not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

Hermione was frowning. "Alright, lets say for a moment that Professor Snape _was_ a Death Eater... he would have had to done something that earned him Professor Dumbledore's trust if he got a teaching position here. Dumbledore would never allow someone who was actually loyal to You-Know-Who teach here!"

Sirius shrugged and set down his pumpkin juice. He lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Harry.

"Well, got any other interesting news to inform me of? I hear your performance in the tournament was spectacular."

"Oh... yeah, I guess," Harry said ducking his head and shrugging.

"Oh! Oh, Harry! You have to tell him!" Hermione said suddenly and Harry looked at her with total confusion.

"Tell him what?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, tell me what?" Sirius echoed.

"About your _transformation, _Harry!" Hermione said with exasperation.

"Oh! That," said Harry.

"Transformation?" Sirius asked with a confused furrowed brow, looking between the two of them.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and huffed slightly before continuing. "Er, yeah... so I've been keeping a big secret from everyone."

"What sort of secret?"

"Well, for a bit under a year I've actually been secretly trying to learn to be... an animagus," Harry admitted with a sheepish smile.

"You've what!" Sirius gasped.

"Yeah, so I sort of... did it."

"Did what?" Sirius asked in confusion.

"The transformation. I did it."

"What! That's impossible! Less than a year? And you're only fourteen!"

"Yeah, well I guess when I put my mind to something I can actually be a fast learner sometimes. Plus I had some real strong incentive there in the end because I realized my form would be useful in the second task."

"You're an animagus?" Sirius asked just to make sure he was really understanding everything.

Harry grinned and shrugged. "Yeah. Guess so."

"Bloody hell! And you said your form was helpful in the task? What is it?"

"Er... yeah, well that's sort of the biggest reason why I kept it a secret. I mean... I didn't even tell Ron or Hermione I was doing it because I was afraid how they would react when they found out what my form was."

Sirius frowned and looked at Hermione and Ron. Hermione was giving Harry an encouraging smile, but Ron was little a bit ill.

"Well, let's here it pup. It won't change a thing. Just get it out."

Harry heaved a sigh and squared his shoulders. He actually _was_ a bit nervous about telling Sirius about his snake form. It wasn't _really_ his animagus form, but this was his story and he had to stick to it for consistency. Despite all the changes Harry had gone through, Sirius was still somewhat important to him.

"Alright... well, I'm a snake," Harry said quickly.

Sirius blinked. "A snake?"

"Yeah, a sea snake to be specific. A Sea Krait."

"You turn into a snake?" Sirius asked again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, a snake."

"A great, ruddy, _huge_ snake," Ron put in now, still looking a bit pale with the subject matter.

"Is that so?" Sirius asked, looking from Ron back to Harry for confirmation.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Can I see?" Sirius asked.

Harry had been afraid of this question. He still wondered if an _actual _animagus would be able to tell that the transformation Harry was undertaking wasn't an animagus transformation, but something else entirely.

He took in a deep breath and nodded his head. He got down onto his knees, like he had when he demonstrated for Hermione and Ron and focused his mind and his magic on performing the transformation. A moment later, he was laying flat on the cold ground, looking up at the stunned face of Sirius Black.

"I told you he was huge," Ron said.

"That he is," Sirius muttered before blinking and then looking down at Harry with a slowly spreading grin. "Merlin, Harry... this is... this is just... _incredible!"_ Sirius threw his head back and laughed before looking back down at Harry again. Harry slithered around a bit, coiling his body into a pile and raising his head and first few feet of his body up off the ground so that his head was at eye level with Sirius who was sitting on the ground.

Harry hissed out a laugh, and Sirius's chuckled lightened as he looked at Harry with interest. Ron was looking pale again from the sound.

"Isn't it amazing?" Hermione chipped in and Sirius began to nod his head emphatically.

"Yes, Hermione. It is. Harry, this is truly a remarkable achievement. I really don't care what your form turned out to be. Being able to perform the animagus transformation after less than a year of training, and at age fourteen is just amazing."

Harry nodded his head and quickly transformed back into his human form.

He grinned and ducked his head sheepishly. "You really think so?" he said, trying to play up the modest card.

"I really do," Sirius said with a proud smile. "Well now we've got to get you a Marauder's name!"

Harry blinked at Sirius. This hadn't actually occurred to him, so he really hadn't given a nickname any sort of thought.

"That sounds like fun," Ron said. "Your form is a dog and you're Padfoot. Professor Lupin is a werewolf and he's Moony. And Harry's dad was a stag and he was Prongs, right?"

It didn't go unnoticed that Wormtail was neglected from the list.

"Right," said Sirius.

"So... something to do with a snake..." Ron said slowly as he screwed up his face in concentration. "Scales? Forked tongue..."

"They're legless lizards, so Legless?" Hermione said, shrugging. "Or Fangs? Oh – Venom?"

"Do you have venom!" Ron paled considerably.

Harry chuckled. "Actually, I do," Harry said smirking. "Hmm... Fangs and Venom both have potential, but Hagrid's dog is named Fang, so that's sort of taken. Don't know how I feel about Legless, but it's not too bad either."

"How about Stripes? You've got that white and black stripe thing going on," Ron offered.

"Hmm," Sirius hummed, "Okay, so we've got Scales, Legless, Venom, and Stripes, or Stripe? What do you think, pup? It'll be your nickname?"

Harry paused and ran the different options over in his head for a minute. "Er... I guess Stripe works for me," Harry said, shrugging. It didn't scream 'snake' to him, so if anyone outside of their group ever heard the nickname, it wouldn't be too suspicious.

"Alright, pup. Stripe it is," Sirius said with a proud grin. "The newest Marauder. Merlin, kid, I still can't believe you really did it. And on your own too. Wow..."

Harry ducked his head. He felt the tiniest bit of upset in his gut for lying to Sirius about this, but it wasn't something he could really do anything about so he violently shoved it away in his mind. "Thanks," he mumbled in forced shyness.

"Anyway," Sirius said, shifting his attention away from Harry and onto Ron. "On to other matters before we call it a day. You say your brother is Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy though. Percy loves Crouch."

Sirus heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

Harry had his wand out with quick, practiced ease in the blink of an eye and cast a tempus. "It's half past three," he said.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen..." He looked particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of the school to see me, alright? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

Harry almost snorted at this, but took on a slightly cowed look and nodded his head as he toed at the ground.

Considering that Barty Crouch was currently impersonating his defense teacher, he was probably in a lot more danger _in_ the school, than out. But he wasn't about to go telling Sirius, or _anyone_ about his suspicions regarding Crouch.

"Alright Sirius," he said with a weak smile.

"Good. I'll feel a lot better when this ruddy tournament is over. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," Sirius said, "see if I can scrounge another paper."

He transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into Hogsmeade and up towards Hogwarts.

– –

AN: ** several passages from previous chapter were taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

– –

Harry was exceedingly frustrated that he wasn't able to get down to the Chamber that night, but Ron and Hermione had pounced on him as soon as they were back at the school about not having told them about Snape and Karkaroff. It was difficult, but Harry continued to play it off as having just slipped his mind. They didn't seem entirely convinced, but he didn't honestly care. They'd get over it.

Sunday Harry managed to give them the slip and went down into the chamber, and back into Slytherin's study. His companion joined him in his mind and directed Harry to Slytherin's desk and told him to feel along the bottom of the desk and hiss out a parsel release spell. Once accomplished, a thin book fell down onto the floor from its place, stuck to the underside of the desk.

It looked incredibly delicate, and Harry feared that the ancient parchment would crumble under the pressure of his fingers. He set the book onto the desk with incredible gentleness and fingered the cover gingerly.

He opened it to the first page and instantly realized that the damn book was _not_ in English.

"_Okay... so what language is this?"_ Harry asked his companion with mild frustration. It didn't even _look_ familiar.

_It is... Elbirin... Old __Aldric..._

Harry blinked. _"That, unfortunately, means absolutely nothing to me."_

_Old __Aldric was the language... of the British Elves... prior to the Tartessian War... and the Celtic takeover in Britain._

Harry looked back down at the book with greater curiosity. Elves!

"_I take it, that you aren't talking about house elves?"_

_House elves... are the punished... perverted descendants of those... who defied... the elven high council..._

That didn't actually explain anything to Harry – if anything, it brought more curiosities, but he expected as much from his companion, and didn't bother to press the subject. He did wonder if he had stayed awake in more of his History of Magic classes, if Professor Binns ever talked about any of this in between his endless rantings on goblin rebellions. He certainly had no recollection of anything called the Tartessian War, or any discussions on an ancient elven race in Britain.

"_Alright... so this is in an ancient elvish language. Is there a way I can translate it? Or would the house elves know it?"_

_It is... lost... to the punished ones... There is a book... on the language... go to the far corner... by the mirror..._

Harry did as he was directed and was gradually led to an almost horrifyingly large book on the Old Aldric language. He thumbed through the enormous old tome with widened eyes.

'Phonology' was the first section. In it, it described the consonants, then vowels and something called 'vowel harmony'. Next the 'Phonotactics', accent, and linking?

Next section was called 'Morphology'. It covered roots, affixes, word formation on derivation and compounding, and _then_ the book got into the nouns and adjectives, propositions, pronouns, verbs, tenses and conjugation...

Harry felt utterly overwhelmed. Was he going to have to learn an entire bloody language just to translate this book?

He sighed and let his head fall onto the desk in front of him. He was _not_ looking forward to this.

He picked up the enormous book on Old Aldric and began reading the first chapter. After an hour, he left the chamber with a headache and the language book in his bag. He wasn't willing to take the other one out of the chamber with him, since it was far too old and fragile looking. He would have to do his translation work only in the chamber, but he could still read up on the language while in the common room.

– –

The rest of the week _dragged_ on. Harry was anxious for Defense and the opportunity to continue his investigation into 'Moody', and if he was being honest with himself, he had a deep, powerful desire to do something utterly reckless, pertaining to the man. He was still in the process of talking himself out of it though. Despite what he wanted to do, and what he needed to do, he had to wait because he didn't actually have Defense until Thursdays, and couldn't come up with a good excuse to approach Moody out of the blue.

Monday was Herbology, which was boring, but bearable; and then Care of Magical Creatures, which was anything but boring, and only occasionally bearable. After lunch, however, was Divination, which was never bearable at all. They were working on Shell Scrying at the moment, which Harry found utterly idiotic.

The idea was that you hold a sea shell up to your ear and the 'sounds of the ocean' that you heard from it would eventually turn into little voices from sea spirits or some such nonsense, that would whisper prophetic things to you.

The whole exercise just grated on Harry's nerves, and made him wonder that much more about this mystery prophecy that had set the dark lord against him, and utterly fucked up his entire life.

Tuesday was History of Magic – _boring – _and then Potions after lunch. Harry's performance in Potions class had improved steadily over the term. He had a pretty firm grasp on ingredient interaction, and proper preparation now – or at least a good grasp on how to look it up and cross-reference things correctly. Something which Snape had never actually explained to them, but had somehow expected them to just magically know.

Because of his improved performance, and his tendency to actually know the answers to every question Snape threw at him – thanks mostly to his companion, who stayed in Harry's aware mind almost every potions lesson – Snape had significantly cut back on how often he actually called on Harry in class. This suited Harry just fine, and that trend continued as they brewed a _Cough Away_ potion.

Wednesdays Harry only had a single class – Charms – and spent the rest of the day down in the chamber, slowly working on the translation of the book. He was at least relieved that the ancient, crumbling tomb was thin. It was only about fifty pages long from what he could tell, so at least he wouldn't have to spend an eternity to translate some enormous 800-page book to get to his answers. Translating fifty pages he could deal with. At least... he hoped so.

His work was slow and tedious. He had a new bound notebook of parchment specifically just for translating the book, and was slowly making his way through translating the early pages. From what he could tell so far, it seemed like a log of some historical events in the ancient elven race's history. Nothing that seemed to apply to Voldemort's so called 'task'.

Late into the evening, Harry's stomach reminded him that he had been down there for an extremely long time, and he finally climbed back out of the chamber and made a quick detour to the kitchens before heading up to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione's curiosity was becoming more and more annoying with each passing day, and this evening, it unfortunately hit an all time peak. The second he entered the common room, she set in on him, asking him where he'd been all day and what he had been doing. She dragged him out of the common room and into a nearby empty classroom so that they could speak privately, but this only irritated Harry further since it denoted the expectation, on Hermione's part, that Harry would be telling her what he'd been up to.

Harry had been using the excuse that he had been jogging around the lake to get into better form, and then practicing various hexes by aiming at trees and into the water. Today, she had apparently gone out to the lake to look for him and seen that he was _not_ there.

"Harry, I just want to know where you were!" she moaned in frustration after several minutes of annoying bickering. "Why won't you just _tell me?_ What are you hiding from us Harry! We're your friends! You know you can trust us!"

"Do I? Do I really know that?" Harry shot back, finally growing too irritated to maintain a friendly mask, or make any more excuses.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, flinching back as if she had just been slapped.

"Tell me, Hermione – what reasons have I got to trust either you _or_ Ron?"

"Harry! You know you can trust us! We're you're friends!"

"Yeah, were you my friends last November after my name got pulled out of that blasted cup?"

"How many times do I have to apologize for that, Harry! I'm sorry! I was an idiot! I swear I won't ever abandon you again like that!"

"And I'm just supposed to _trust_ that, am I?"

"Yes!"

"The way I look at it is I can _trust_ that you guys will be there for me; base all my plans on having you two there, to rely on if I end up in a pinch, and then end up getting _utterly screwed_ if either of you bail on me again, or aren't there when things go south. _Or_ I can just plan for it all on my own and be prepared to handle whatever comes at me _on my own._ Personally, I prefer to be prepared to handle things without the need of any assistance, because chances are, when the shit hits the fan, I'm not going to have any assistance._"_

"Harry..." Hermione whimpered as her lip quivered. "But we can help you! You don't have to tackle the whole world alone!"

"You can't help me in the third task, Hermione. No one can. I'm going to be going into whatever deathly task they come up with, _all alone._"

"But Harry..."

"No, Hermione. I'm done with this conversation. What I do and where I go everyday is _my business. _Now BACK OFF!"

Harry spun away from her and stormed out of the classroom, down the corridor, and back into the common room before storming up the stairs towards the boy's dorm.

He was _sick_ of them. All of them. Merlin he needed to get the hell away from the school for a while.

– –


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

One of the things he enjoyed most about Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes was that they were often very active, and focused on practical work. _Moody_ didn't spend the entire class block lecturing, or having them read from their textbooks. He almost always set them to actively practicing spells in class.

The class was currently spaced around the room, all partnered off, and practicing the disarming charm. The thing about the class was that it had an odd number of students, so they could never get an even partnering set up. Since, by this point, Harry knew most of the spells that Moody was teaching the 4th year students, he had taken to standing back and observing in the class, or sometimes even reading.

'Moody', however, had also taken the opportunity to take Harry aside and teach him some slightly more advanced spells from time to time. Something which Harry had appreciated greatly. He now wondered exactly what the man's motive was behind the action. For that matter, 'Moody' had been trying to help him with the tournament the whole year.

Harry had come to the realization that he was not entered in the tournament so that he would die in it. Voldemort needed him in order to complete his resurrection ritual. So killing Harry was most definitely not the immediate goal. So why enter him in the tournament at all? Harry didn't know. But he intended to find out.

In fact, there were a lot of things that Harry wanted to find out, and his ultimate conclusion was that there was only one man who could really answer all those questions, and that man was Voldemort himself.

The rest of the students in his defense class were scattered around the room, all weakly attempting to disarm their partners, and most of them were failing miserably. It was quite honestly pathetic. Harry sneered at their pitiful attempts and rolled his eyes. He pushed himself off the wall that he had been leaning against and walked casually towards Moody, who was correcting Seamus's wand movement.

"Professor," Harry said in a quiet voice.

'Moody' turned and narrowed his one proper eye at Harry. "Yes, Potter? You need something?"

Harry glanced back and forth to see if any of the nearby students were paying them any attention. When he was sure that they weren't he leaned in a bit closer. "I was hoping that I could speak with you after class. _Privately_. It's important."

'Moody' looked suspicious – but he _always _looked suspicious, so this wasn't much of a change – and finally he nodded his head curtly.

Harry grinned lightly and took a few steps away and 'Moody' refocused on a Ravenclaw boy and started yelling at him for his poor pronunciation.

–

"You coming, mate?" Ron asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder and started heading for the door of the defense classroom.

"Moody asked me to stay after class," Harry said, as he finished back up his notes.

"What's he want?" Ron asked looking confused. Hermione's head came up and her eyes were filled with curiosity but she didn't say anything.

Harry shrugged. "Won't know till I go talk to him, will I? I'll catch up with you guys later. I may be late to diner if whatever he has to talk about takes a while."

Ron shrugged and started to leave, but it was obvious from Hermione's face that she was dying to ask some questions. Harry pointedly ignored her and turned to head back to the front of the class where Moody was standing beside his desk. His one normal eye was narrowed on him suspiciously, while his magical one was trained on him intently.

Harry waited until both Ron and Hermione had gone, leaving only he and 'Professor Moody' left in the room before he turned and smirked at the grizzled-looking old man.

"I asked you to stay after, did I, Potter?"

"I do apologize, sir, but their curiosity has been getting rather bothersome lately. Hermione especially, has been getting exceptionally nosy," Harry said with slightly annoyed look to him as he glared back towards the exit of the classroom. He refocused on 'Moody' and grinned. "Can we take this into your office?"

The suspicion in 'Moody's' eye grew several measures but he nodded his head and motioned with his arm for Harry to head towards the door at the rear of the classroom that come into the back of Moody's office.

The two entered the cluttered room and Moody sat down in his chair. Harry noticed that the older wizard had his wand clasped loosely in his hand and was twisting it in between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry hesitated before sitting in the chair opposite the desk and glanced at his professor. "Do you mind if I cast a privacy ward?"

The corner of Moody's mouth turned up in apparent amusement. He waved his hand. "Be my guest, Potter."

Harry pocketed his wand and held his hand out, palm facing towards the front of the office. He slowly began to hiss out a sequence of words to form a rather powerful privacy ward over the room. It would not only place a silencing spell over the room, so no one on the outside could hear them; and lock the doors; it would also set off an alarm the second anyone approached either of the doors to the office. It was a fair bit more powerful and useful than the 'normal' magic privacy ward he knew, and he had no qualms using parselmagic in front of 'Moody'.

Once he was done and he turned back to the professor, he could see the surprise and curiosity glowing in his eyes.

"Interesting piece of magic, there Potter... I must say, I'm more than a slight bit curious as to where you learned it."

Harry grinned and let himself fall gracelessly into the chair opposite Moody's desk. "From a book."

"Mind your cheek, Potter. Not gonna give me more than that?"

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "It was a book that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. Before me, the last owner was a man named Tom Riddle. Heard of him?"

"Slytherin! Where in Merlin's name did you find a book that used to be owned by Slytherin?" Moody exclaimed, not responding to the second half of the question.

"Down in the Chamber of Secrets, actually. You didn't answer my other question. Ever heard of a man named Tom Riddle?"

"Riddle?" Moody paused, looking thoughtful, although the man's expressions were somewhat hard to differentiate given how scared and messed up his face was. "Can't say that I've ever heard the name. Down in the chamber, you say?"

"Yeah. The chamber. And I suppose I'm not too surprised that you hadn't heard the name," Harry paused and sat up a bit straighter, giving the old wizard a calculating look. "Before I say what I've got to say next, I want you to promise that you'll hear me out before you start throwing curses."

'Moody's body tensed, and his grip on his wand visibly tightened. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I want you to take me to him. Screw this waiting till the end of term, or the last task, or whenever the hell it is you lot were planning on taking me. Take me _now."_

"What the hell are you talking about Potter!" Moody spat with a tone and stance that spoke of ignorance and confusion, but Harry could see the tension and wariness in the other man's pose and demeanor.

"Voldemort. Take me to him. I'm volunteering my services. My blood. Whatever the hell he needs for this resurrection ritual of his. He can have it." Harry paused, and then smirked. "Well... up to a point. I'd really rather not end up dead. But I suppose that's part of the reason I'm volunteering."

Moody was standing before Harry was even done talking and he had his wand trained on him. Harry left his wand in his pocket in hopes of it being a sign of non-aggression. He was fairly confident in the parselmagic shield charm he knew, as well as his ability to dodge.

Harry raised his hands, palms out to show he wasn't putting up a fight. "I asked that you hear me out," he reminded the older wizard, loudly.

"And why, _exactly_ are you coming to _me_ about this suicidal little request of yours?" Moody spat, still attempting to feign ignorance.

"Because I know you're not Alastor Moody," Harry said, as he continued to sit in the chair with his empty hands bared. "You're Barty Crouch Jr. Convicted Death Eater, who was supposed to have died in Azkaban about a decade ago. Why you're not dead, and why you're _here_, I can only guess. I figured maybe you dad broke you out and left your mum there in your place. Couldn't quite figure out _why_, but I suppose that really isn't any of my business, is it?"

'Moody' was strafing slowly out from behind his desk and kept his wand trained on Harry the whole time.

"And how, exactly, did you work all that out, Potter?"

"A whole slew of different sources that I pieced together on my own. Most of those sources, no one else could have access to, so you really don't have to worry about anyone else working it out the same way."

"Is that so?" 'Moody' spat, disbelievingly.

"Look, Crouch. I've known that you were impersonating Moody for _months _now. I didn't realize that you were the same _Barty_ that was working for the Dark Lord though. I only just figured that out this last weekend, which is why I finally figured I'd come and have this lovely little chat with you. Now, if I had been so inclined to turn you over to the old goat, I would have done so ages ago. Dumbledore has no idea about any of this, and it is entirely my intention to keep him in the dark."

"And you think you can just offer yourself to the Dark Lord and then walk away from it, unharmed?" 'Moody' sneered before chuckling darkly.

Harry shrugged. "I think I have things to offer him. I know he wants me dead, but I think I can be of a greater value to him alive. I also happen to know that this resurrection of his could be more powerful if I participate willingly."

'Moody' looked at Harry skeptically and paused. "How do you even know about it? And what makes you think your cooperation would make any difference at all?"

"I have visions. I see into his head sometimes. It's random, and admittedly, I have no control over it at all, but I've been in his head several times this year."

"You? In the Dark Lord's head?" he hissed, disbelievingly.

Harry rolled his eyes and raised one hand to tap at his scar. "This is more than ornamental, you know. I'm connected to him. He left a bit of himself behind that night when he tried to kill me. This year I stopped fighting against that bit and started accepting it instead. It's brought about a real change of heart in me."

'Moody' gave him a long, hard look. "Is that so?"

Harry just shrugged and rose his eyebrows a bit into his forehead before relaxing back into the chair.

"So basically, I just want to see him. I need to tell him some things, and honestly, I'd like to ask him some things too. We also need to work on this ritual of his because I'm positive that once he learns about my decision to say 'eff you' to the old goat, he'll need to make some adjustments to it.

The old ritual he was planning on using at the end of the year would really only work if my magical affinity was light... which it's not."

"Really, now? Has been Dumbledore's golden-boy been tinkering in the dark arts?"

Harry curled his lips into a fierce sneer. "I am _not_ Dumbledore's _anything. _And I certainly know my way around the dark arts."

"And how exactly have _you_ been able to to practice any of this dark magic of yours? The wards around the school notify the old man of any dark magic cast."

Harry snickered. "Nothing to be worried about. I've actually been having quite a bit of fun down the the Chamber. Best thing about it is that it's beyond the reach of the school's wards. Dumbledore doesn't know a damn thing about what I do down there. And you know, while we're on the subject, I've been incredibly curious about that stunt you pulled at the start of year where you cast the Unforgivables in class. Dumbledore had to be aware of what you did – he had to have thrown a fit over that!"

'Moody' snorted. "He got over it."

Harry chuckled. "Awesome. So. Me going to see the Dark Lord. My greatest asset to him will be if I can maintain a cover here after everything is said and done, so if we can work my visits to him to be as inconspicuous as possible, that would be better."

'Moody' gave him a speculative look. "You're really serious about this, Potter? You know you very well be going straight into you death? There's absolutely no guarantee to you that you'll be allowed to leave alive."

Harry shrugged dismissively. "I'm pretty confident."

'Moody' gave a disbelieving snort. "Cocky brat."

"So do you have a way to get to him? A portkey or something? And do you have a way to contact him?"

"Of course I do. But in order to use the portkey we have to go beyond the boundaries of the castle and it's grounds."

"Are you aware of the secret passage way down the hall from here?" Harry asked suddenly, and 'Moody' looked a bit surprised by the sudden question.

"Secret passage?"

"Yeah, just down the hall from the defense classroom is a statue of a one-eyed witch with a hump-back. If you tap her back with your wand and say _dissendium_, it'll open up and reveal the entrance to a secret passage. It goes down a ways and eventually leads to a tunnel that goes all the way to Hogsmeade. It comes out in the cellar of Honeydukes. About half-way through the tunnel, you escape the reach of the castle's anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards. We can just slip down there, go half way through the tunnel, and take the portkey from there. Is it a two-way portkey?"

"Of course it is. And you really seem to have thought this through."

"Well, I've been researching and planning it for a while now."

"You've been planning on going to the Dark Lord?" 'Moody' said with surprise and a tinge of respect.

Harry paused and looked thoughtful as he cocked his head to the side slightly. "Not... _exactly..._ But... I suppose a part of me has been considering it for quite a while. Longer than I really realized it, anyway. I feel... _drawn_ to him. I didn't used to understand it, but I do now," he chuckled and shrugged. "I suppose it all comes back to this," he said as he reached up and tapped his forehead again. "I'm _bound_ to him. Trying to deny it has only brought me trouble, my whole life. Ever since I started to embrace it, I've been much better off, as far as I'm concerned."

"Hmph..." 'Moody' snorted. "Alright then... I'll contact the Dark Lord tonight... I can't say I'm all that comfortable with letting you leave here, knowing what you know..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've _known_ what I know for _ages_ now. If I haven't gone to the old goat before now, I'm certainly not about to go do it now."

"If you've known for ages then why haven't you come forward before now?"

"I told you – I knew that you were impersonating Moody with Polyjuice, but I didn't realize that _you_ were Barty Crouch Jr."

"Who did you think I was?"

"Your father, honestly. Which really only confused me further."

"My father!"

"I've got this charmed map of the school. It shows a small dot to represent every person in the castle at any given time, and has their names listed beside the dot. Where I would expect it to say Alastor Moody – say, when you were at meals or teaching class and I was looking straight at you, instead it said 'Bartemius Crouch'. The map only gives first and last names. No middle names and no extra bits like Jr. or Sr."

"Do you now? Sounds like a rather interesting magical artifact... does anyone else have access to this thing?"

"No. I keep it on me at all times. And it's the only one. My dad made it back when he was a student here."

'Moody's' eyebrows rose a bit, to show he was mildly impressed. "So how did you finally figure out who I was?"

"Well I've seen _you_, as 'Barty' in my visions from Voldemort. I'd heard him refer to you as 'Barty'. But since I knew what you looked like, and you most certainly didn't look like the old man that I associated the name 'Bartemius Crouch' with, it never even occurred to me that the 'Bartemius Crouch' impersonating Moody could be the same Barty that was working for the Dark Lord. This last weekend I was talking with someone and found out a bit about your dad's backstory. Someone was talking about _your_ being caught as a Death Eater and getting sent off to Azkaban, and that someone referred to you as 'Barty'. It simply turned on the light switch in my head."

"Light switch?"

"Sorry. Muggle thing. Nevermind. Anyway, my er... _friends_ are gonna start getting suspicious if I take too much longer," Harry said as he reached into his bag and began to dig around. 'Moody' tensed and watched him carefully. Harry brought out a piece of folded parchment and placed it on Moody's desk.

"What's this?" 'Moody' asked, eying it skeptically.

"It's a charmed parchment. Anything you write on it will disappear and appear on its counterpart, which I have here," Harry said as he held up another identical piece of parchment. "It's not perfect, but I was a bit rushed. Anyone could read it, for example, so don't go leaving it around, and when you write something on it to me, keep it inconspicuous."

"I'm not a moron, Potter," 'Moody' snapped.

Harry smirked. "Obviously not. Honestly, I think you're pretty brilliant, even if you're not really Alastor Moody. You've been my favorite defense teacher, second only to the werewolf that taught us last year."

'Moody' snorted.

"So," Harry continued. "I'll check my parchment as often as I can for any messages from you. If you get word from the Dark Lord on when you and I can show up there, let me know. My house mates are getting a bit annoying in their curiosity about my frequent disappearances, but they've also become rather used to them. I usually disappear down into the chamber every bloody day, so if I suddenly disappear to some other place instead, no ones going to notice. Still can't be out past curfew though, or even more people will start asking questions."

"I'll take that into consideration. What's your schedule like, Potter?"

"Mondays, Thursday and Fridays are completely full. My last block on Tuesdays is open, but Wednesday I'm free from lunch on since I've only got Charms. My standard habit for the last few months is to head down to the chamber as soon as I'm done with dinner and not come back for about an hour and a half. My dorm mates are used to that, and it won't look strange if I'm gone for an hour after dinner most nights."

'Moody' nodded, as he memorized the information. "Alright, Potter. Now get the hell out of here."

Harry snickered and stood up. "I see that I've worn out my welcome. I'll be in touch."

– –

"What was that all about, Harry?" Ron asked as Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table in the great hall several minutes later.

"Moody wants to offer me some advanced lessons during and outside of class. Seeing as how I've already taught myself all of the 4th year defense spells that we're learning in class, and I'm going up against people three years ahead of me in schooling for the tournament, he figured it could do me a lot of good," Harry lied effortlessly as he began to pile food onto his plate.

"That's fantastic Harry," Hermione said softly, although the enthusiasm in her voice seemed a bit forced.

"Yeah, sounds wicked," Ron said, "Moody is a brilliant teacher... totally mental, but brilliant. But will this mean even more homework and stuff? I mean, you're already so busy all the time..."

"I'll probably be doing the extra defense lessons on Wednesdays when I've got the whole afternoon off. My evenings are starting to free up now so I may be spending some of them with Moody instead."

"Your evenings are freeing up?" Hermione asked, innocently and pointedly not making eye contact. Harry's eyes narrowed minutely, but he kept his overall disposition amicable.

"Well, most of my old projects are running dry, now that the second task is over. Some of the things I was studying weren't really 'done' with the task, and they were interesting so I kept working on them, anyway. I did sort of stumble upon a new thing though."

Hermione looked like she was struggling between being ecstatic that he was telling them things, and being frustrated by how vague he was being.

"New thing?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up at her with consideration for a moment. Harry had spent the previous night with companion... or Voldemort's soul shard... or _whatever,_ trying to brainstorm on some ideas of how to deal with his 'friends' and specifically, how to deal with Hermione.

She was only going to grow more and more suspicious of him if he didn't do something soon. His companion had suggested involving her in his most recent project. Specifically, his attempt to learn Old Aldric and translate the ancient book that was hidden beneath Slytherin's desk. The idea was to let her think that he was finally sharing something important with her, to set her off all of the other things he was working on. And as a side benefit, he would get some help translating the book.

Harry had instantly been wary of involving her with it, but his companion had insisted that the information that they would translate would only enlighten her, and would pose no threat to Harry, or what he was doing.

He wondered what exactly _that_ meant, but if there was anyone left in his life that he honestly trusted, it was his companion.

Feeling resigned, Harry sighed, reached into his bag and pulled out the book on Old Aldric. "It's an ancient language that was spoken by the British elves before they left this realm. I found a book that was written in their language, and I've been trying to translate it. _This_," he said, motioning to the book, "is a book on the language and how to learn it."

Hermione's face was alight with that excited glow she got when exposed to some great new learning opportunity.

"Harry this is incredible!" she exclaimed, snatching the book and running her fingers over it reverently. "The elves, you said? Oh Harry! This is remarkable! There is hardly _anything_ left in recorded history about them! It's all myth and legend! You seriously found a book that was written in their language?"

"Yeah, but it's falling apart it's so old. I'm hesitant to even move it. I've started just copying it so that I can translate from the copy and not have to man-handle the original so much. I'll bring you a copy of it as I get it ready."

She gasped and looked as if she were about to burst with excitement. "Oh Harry! This is so incredible! Where on earth did you ever find such a thing?"

"Sorry Hermione. Not telling that part. I'm letting you in, but only so much. Prove to me it's not a mistake and I might tell you more." Harry said in a straight, serious tone before turning his attention back to his plate.

Hermione's excitement came up short, her brow furrowed, and she looked thoughtful for a moment. Finally she nodded her head in determination. "Alright Harry. I'll _prove_ that you can trust me again. Let me help you."

Harry looked up at her, feeling rather skeptical, but he nodded in response.

Ron, sat there, watching the two of them through their entire exchange looking utterly confused.

"What in Merlin's name are you two on about?" he finally asked, when his confusion became so frustrating that he could no longer remain silent.

"Harry found a book written by the elves!" Hermione said with the excited glow returning to her face.

"House elves?" Ron asked, twisting up his face?

"No, Ron! Not _House Elves! _High Elves! The ancient elves of Britain!"

"Oh, that's a load of malarkey! There's no such thing," Ron said dismissively.

"There was to Ron! And this here is proof! It's a book all about their language!" she said, holding it up in front of him defiantly.

"That could be a book about _anyone_'s old language. What proof is there that that came from High Elves? And if High Elves really existed, then where did they go? How come no one has ever seen one?"

Harry twisted up his face. "I think they left... to another realm, or something."

"Why would they do that? That's just silly."

"I'm still working on that part. Although, I think that the story in this book actually talks about it..." Harry said, hesitantly.

Hermione gasped and looked at him with even greater excitement. "Are you serious, Harry!"

He shrugged. "I think so, actually. It seems to be an origin story. It talks about what happened to the elves, and how human's first got magic."

Ron snorted. "Fairytales."

Hermione scowled angrily at Ron before turning back to Harry. "Harry this is an absolutely astounding discovery. I'm dying to know how you came about it, but I'll hold my tongue for now, alright?"

Harry grinned and nodded his head. "That would be appreciated."

"Can I borrow this book to start reading it?" Hermione said, looking down at the Old Aldric book in front of her.

"Actually, I can just spell you a copy. That book predates the copyright charms that are on all the books in the library, so there's nothing stopping us from just making you a copy."

Hermione gasped again. "You can perform the book copy charm! Harry that's an incredible bit of transfiguration! That's beyond NEWT level! It's hard enough to conjure something from nothing, let along _permanent_ conjuring, and of something as detailed and thick as a book!"

"Well, I won't lie and pretend that it's easy. I've had more than a few failures, but I've been practicing quite a bit lately and I'm pretty sure I can make you a copy of this one."

Hermione gave him a speculative look. "You've been practicing the book copying charm?" she asked, with mild confusion. "Why?"

"I've been copying some books," he said with a smirk and a pointed look, silently reminding her of her promise not to ask too many questions.

She huffed a bit in frustration of being denied answers to her questions and pouted, but didn't press.

Harry grinned. This would probably work pretty well. Hermione had a desperate thirst for new knowledge, and as long as he was holding this elf stuff over her head, she was going to be a lot more cooperative.

"Anyway, once we get back to the common room, I'll work on spelling you a copy of the Old Aldric book, and you can start reading it. Unfortunately, the other book is far too fragile to risk using the spell to copy it so I'm having to do it a page at a time. It's taking me ages, so I'll need to disappear again tonight so I can keep working on it.

"That's where you were yesterday?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice. Harry huffed.

"_Yes._ That is where I was yesterday."

"Why couldn't you just have _told me that?"_

"Because you want to know _where_ specifically I'm going – right?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"And you want to know where I've found these books?"

Again, she nodded.

"Well I can't tell you. And as things stand right now, I don't intend to tell you. If you can work with me, without knowing those details, then we're golden. If not, then there's nothing more we can do about any of this."

"I'll work with you Harry!" she said with an air of desperation in her voice. "I'm going to prove to you that you can trust me. I just... I want to make sure that you're not doing anything that might be putting you in danger. I mean... you aren't leaving school grounds, are you! You heard what Sirius said, Harry! If you leave, it makes you exposed! You could be attacked!"

"I'm not leaving school grounds. I swear. Nothing I'm doing, with these books, is at all dangerous and no one can attack me. Alright?" Harry said in a calm, reassuring voice.

Hermione gave him a long hard look, seemingly trying to gauge his honesty. Finally she nodded her head and smiled.

"Alright, Harry. I trust you. Thank you for finally telling me some of it."

Harry gave her a soft reassuring smile and nodded his head. He still wasn't entirely convinced this was a good idea, but at least it would keep her distracted for a bit. And he had to admit, he could definitely use the help in translating the book.

– –

_Potter -_

_Can you get out late unnoticed?_

Harry sat at Slytherin's desk, looking at the recently changed parchment, and chewing on the tip of his quill.

_Yes, but it works best if I do it after all my dorm mates are already asleep. 1am would be best._

He wrote on the parchment and the words disappeared from the parchment a moment later. Harry had a full set of classes the next day, so he didn't exactly fancy staying up all night, but he would if he didn't have any other option. His first class on Fridays was History of Magic and he could always use it for a good nap if needed.

As he waited for a response from Barty, he returned his attentions to the ancient elvish book and his slow, tedious job of copying the contents of each page the _hard_ way. He had found that he'd gotten quite accustomed to the strange shaped letters, and his handwriting had improved dramatically as he progressed. Hopefully Hermione wouldn't have any trouble reading it.

_1am it is, then. Meet me by the statue you mentioned, tonight._

Harry glanced over at the spelled parchment and watched as Barty's writing appeared. He groaned internally, grieving the imminent loss of sleep. If he was going to see Voldemort, he knew there was no way that this would be a brief visit. He wondered if he could sneak into the hospital wing and nick a vial of Pepper-Up potion to help him function, come morning.

Fridays were his busiest days, and he didn't have a single free period the whole day long. Worst of all, he had double-potions in the afternoon with Snape. Tomorrow was going to be a _long_ day.

Harry tapped his wand on the parchment, clearing the last message before bringing his quill down and responding with a quick, '_Agreed. I'll be there.'_

Harry took one more long look at ancient elvish book and sighed. He stood up, reached into his pocket and pulled out his trunk. He tapped the top of it, and restored it to it's full size, before hissing the third compartment open and beginning to sift through the books within.

– –

Sneaking away from the dormitory once all of his roommates were asleep was just as easy as it had been back when he was taking his potion once a week. Only this time he didn't tell Ron he might be waking up early, since Harry hoped that he would be back before any of the other boys woke up.

He slipped through the castle, beneath his invisibility cloak and with the activated Marauder's Map under the cloak with him. He got down to the second floor defense corridor and saw a dot for 'Bartemius Crouch' standing beside the one-eyed witch statue. When he actually approached, he didn't see anyone though. He reached out with his magic and could sense the presence of another wizard and after squinting, he determined that the other man was under a disillusionment charm of some sort.

Harry pulled back the hood of his cloak and smirked at the spot where he could feel Barty's magical signature coming from. He checked the map one more time just to make sure no one was going to be showing up in the next few seconds, before taking out his wand and tapping it on the witch's hump.

"_Dissendium"_ he whispered quietly. The passageway quickly opened up and he nodded his head towards it.

'Moody' appeared and was eying Harry speculatively. "How exactly did you know I was there?"

"I could feel your magic," Harry said with a dismissive shrug. 'Moody' looked skeptical, but quickly made his way through the opening and down into the tunnel. Harry followed and closed it behind them. The two each cast Lumos spells on their wands and started a brisk pace down the tunnel.

About ten minutes of walking later and Harry came to a stop as he felt the oppressive weight of the castle wards suddenly lift from his shoulders and he let a small relieved sigh escape his lips.

"Okay, we can use the portkey now," he said as he turned to the older wizard. 'Moody' rose his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"You can sense the castle's wards?" he asked with mild skepticism.

Harry blinked back at him. "Yeah... you can't?"

"I'm perfectly capable of sensing magic, brat. I'm just surprised that _you_ can."

"I don't see why that should be such a surprise... I mean, sure, a year ago I wouldn't have been able to do it, but I was wasting the majority of my magical energy on trying to keep a portion of the Dark Lord's soul from devouring my own. Since I stopped wasting so much of my bloody magic on something so pointless, I've got a much better handle on things. I figured this was probably what it was like for everyone."

'Moody' snorted. "Hardly, Potter. Very few wizards are in tune enough with the flow of magic to detect wards and auras. It is _not_ a common talent."

"Hm," Harry hummed in his throat as he rose his eyebrows mildly. He gave a dismissive shrug, as if it really didn't matter... because, honestly? It didn't. And he held his hand out. 'Moody' looked at it and cocked a single curious eyebrow.

"The portkey?" Harry said.

'Moody' rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket, pulling out a bottle cap with a hole punched in it and a small thin chain going through it.

Once Harry and 'Moody' were both holding the chain, 'Moody' said "_morsmordre_" and the portkey activated.

The feeling of having a fish hook latch on to the back of his navel and pull him backwards through a straw overcame him, and a swirling moment later, he was landing unsteadily on the floor in the entry hall to a very familiar manor house.

He only just barely managed to keep from falling over, and quickly steadied himself. His heart was racing, but he was honestly surprised to find that it was eager excitement far more than fear that was powering it. He was still a bit worried. There really was nothing guaranteeing that he would be leaving this building alive tonight, and yet he was oddly confident that he would be.

Harry paused and looked around the large, grand space. It was obvious that the muggles who owned the house before Voldemort took up residence, had been very wealthy. It was also obvious that it hadn't actually been inhabited in a great long while. Harry knew that Wormtail had been tasked with cleaning the place up a bit, but the man was clearly no house cleaner.

Still, it was grand and impressive, and with a little spell work, the place could probably look quite nice.

Harry's musings were brought to an abrupt halt when he felt the cool point of 'Moody's' wand press into the back of his neck.

"Is that _really_ necessary, Barty?" Harry said in a bored tone.

"Your wand, Potter."

Harry sighed and dug into his pocket, pulling it out and handing it over.

"It's not like I could really use the thing all the way out here anyway. This far away from Hogwarts and using it would set off the Ministry trace," Harry grumbled, defiantly.

"Up the stairs, Potter," Moody said, ignoring Harry's comment, and jerking his head towards the stairs in front of them.

Harry rolled his eyes and set off at a brisk pace.

"Is he in the library, or the study?" he said casually, over his shoulder.

'Moody' paused and Harry could almost feel the man's narrowed, suspicious eye burning into his back.

"The library," he said after a moment.

Harry reached the top of the first flight of stairs and made a right, heading directly for the library. 'Moody' came up beside him and continued to eye Harry suspiciously.

"So, out of curiosity," Harry began to speak in a casual tone, "Are you going to let your polyjuice dose wear off while we're here? I'd be interested to see you with your real face, rather than Alastor Moody's."

"Probably not, Potter."

Harry shrugged, only mildly disappointed before he came to a stop at the wide double-doors that would lead to the library and paused, glancing over at his escort.

"Just open the doors, Potter," he said.

Harry grinned and reached out with each hand to open the pair of doors in one sweep. A few steps into the room and Harry's eyes were drawn to the back of the small, levitating chair that he had become familiar with through his visions. He could just barely make out a small hand with long, skeletal fingers curling over one arm rest, showing him just enough to know that Voldemort was currently occupying the chair. The visual was merely a confirmation though, since he could _feel_ the waves of magical power emanating from the occupant of the chair.

The feel of that magic was remarkably familiar, and the _intensity_ of its darkness was literally intoxicating. Harry took a deep breath and had to fight to keep his eyes open and looking forward. The sheer _power_ of the dark magic that was rolling off the Dark Lord was indescribable.

"My Lord," came 'Moody's' reverent, awe-filled voice, from behind Harry. "I have brought you _Harry Potter._"

"Ah, yes... so you have... you have served me well, Barty. I am _pleased."_

Harry took a few more steps closer and came to a stop. The chair began to turn, slowly, to expose the small homunculus vessel that the Dark Lord Voldemort currently resided in. He was piercing Harry with bright red, narrow, and suspicious eyes

Harry took two quick steps forward that caused 'Moody' to tense and aim his wand at Harry. Harry ignored the man and lowered himself onto one knee in a quick, fluid movement, and bowed his head.

"My Lord," he breathed the words, through his insane elation. He looked up at the piercing red eyes, through his fringe of messy black hair, and knew that his own emerald eyes were probably _glowing_ with his excitement. His blood was pounding through his veins and his magic was dancing around him maniacally.

He couldn't rationally understand how he could feel so excited at this moment, but he was. He felt almost giddy. He was really _here!_ Before the most powerful dark wizard of his time, and the man was looking straight at him, and he could _feel_ the man's magic lashing out and tangling with his own. Licking at each other's magic like flames, and then dancing together dangerously. Deliciously.

He barely suppressed a shudder as he saw the Dark Lord shift forward in his undersized levitating chair.

"Your Lord?" the high pitched voice of Voldemort's homunculus spoke with a mixture of disbelief, and amusement. "I never anticipated such a thing would ever be willingly uttered by the _Boy-Who-Lived," _he said, sneering the title with obvious disdain. "You will forgive me if I am appropriately skeptical of all this."

Harry's eye twitched and he sneered lightly. "I hate that name," he muttered under his breath.

"Hmm? What was that Potter? Speak up brat."

"I hate that name," Harry said, louder, as he rose his head and smirked at the miniature dark lord. "The _Boy-Who-Lived._ What a load of tripe. Famous for something I don't remember and had absolutely no control over. It's idiotic."

"Hmph. Yes, well, I can't say that I entirely disagree with that assessment," Voldemort said, raising a single hairless brow. "Still, I am quite curious about this _'My Lord'_ business. Not that I do not believe that I am more than deserving of your respect and deference, but I _am_ curious as to what has spawned the realization in _you._"

"It is merely fact. You are the lord of all dark wizards. Magic deemed it so, right? That's just how it works. I am a dark wizard. It is both my chosen, and practiced magical affinity, so that makes _you_ mylord. It's just that simple," Harry said with a simple shrug, as if this were obvious.

The look in Voldemort's face said that he had not expected this response.

He held his wand in his bony, undersized hand and performed a few quick swirls and flicks.

Harry blinked and raised straightened slightly, while still remaining bent on a single knee, as he sensed a wave of magic course out of the wand and encircle him. There was a confused moment where he wondered what exactly the spell was, but all thought left him a moment later as he felt the powerful magic course through him. It was all Voldemort, and it was incredible. His magic _tasted_ like him, if that made any sense at all, which Harry knew it didn't. It just reeked of the man in every indescribable way, and feeling it for the first time as it came out and touched him, was mind blowing.

The spell wasn't intended to actually feel like anything, he could tell. It wasn't the spell itself that was affecting him, but rather Voldemort's raw magic that formed the spell.

Harry's head had fallen back onto his shoulder and a small noise emanated from deep in his throat before he felt the magic leave him.

He blinked in surprise, and mild disappointment at the sudden disappearance of the spell – whatever it was. It hadn't been a curse. For that matter, it hadn't even been a dark spell, but Voldemort's magic was fundamentally dark, and that had been more than enough to effect Harry deeply.

Harry suddenly became aware that a bright, saturated, red light was now glowing from around him. He raised a single questioning eyebrow and then looked back up at the Dark Lord questioningly. The man had an expression of mild surprise on his face, which was slowly morphing into a wicked grin. A wonderfully frightening cackle emerged from Voldemort's lips next and it sent a thrill down Harry's spine.

The cackling died down a moment later, but the amusement never left the Dark Lord's face.

"Oh, this is just _precious!_ Dumbledore's little golden-boy, with a powerful affinity for dark magic!"

Harry blinked and he realized what spell had been cast on him. "That's the spell that reveals a person's magical affinity, wasn't it?"

"Yes, of course, you stupid brat. What the devil did you think it was?"

Harry shrugged. "I do not doubt that you probably know thousands more spells than I do. There was no telling what you were casting." Harry paused and looked rather thoughtful. "Is there a way to prevent that spell? Block it or something? It would be incredibly inconvenient if someone cast that on me at school.

Voldemort's amusement shifted slowly to the cold calculating curiosity from earlier. "There is. Perhaps I will tell you later. Now, tell me how this happened brat. In your first year, you were every bit the stupid Gryffindor beacon of the light."

Harry snorted and looked away slightly. "Yeah, well in first year I was a naive, stupid little eleven year old boy who hadn't known a damn thing about magic a year prior. Dumbledore stuck me with muggles to keep me ignorant of the magical world and malleable to his ideals. He wanted a clean slate that he could write only what he deemed appropriate on, once I came to Hogwarts. I acted the way I felt I was expected to act. My only real priority was to be accepted by those around me because I spent my entire youth being loathed by those who were supposed to be my family.

"Dumbledore worked it so that he had full control over what information I had access to, and he had full control over what opinions I could form about the way of magic and the wizarding world. He set it up so that he could mold my thoughts and ideals towards his own. It worked... for a while. This year, however, I had a bit of a wake-up call," Harry said with a sly grin.

"Do go on," Voldemort said, waving his hand and grinning. He seemed entirely amused by Harry's rant on the damned old fool, Dumbledore, and honestly a bit impressed that Potter had managed to see what the Light's beacon was doing, for what it really was.

Harry paused and shifted his position slightly. "Can I sit? This story will take a bit of time, and the whole kneeling thing is going to get rather uncomfortable rather quickly."

Voldemort looked less amused at this, but sighed a bit in exasperation before waving his hand and summoning a chair from some place in the room and bringing it to rest beside where Harry was kneeling. "Impudent brat," he muttered.

Harry grinned roguishly and quickly stood up and shifted over to the chair. He threw himself into it in a rather undignified manner and Voldemort sneered slightly at Harry's inexplicably confident demeanor, given his situation and surroundings.

Harry, oddly enough, found himself feeling right at home in the manor library. He had strange, vague impressions of memories of spending a great deal of time relaxing and reading in this room, in addition to the very clear memories of several visions that had taken place mostly here.

But aside from his comfort with the room he was sitting in, it was the magical ambiance from the Dark Lord opposite him that felt the most familiar. It wasn't quite the same as the _vibe_ he got off of his companion, but it was remarkably similar. It made sense, when he thought about it logically, but it was still seriously weird when he realized just how strong the urge was to go touch the man... er... little creature, opposite him. The only positive touches Harry had ever regularly experienced had been in the embrace of his companion... who was in actually, a piece of the wizard sitting opposite him.

Combining his strange familiarity with the room, and the irrational comfort he got from being so near the magical signature of the Dark Lord, he almost felt as comfortable here as he did down in Slytherin's chamber with his companion whispering to him.

"Oh!" Harry said, having suddenly remembered something. "I almost forgot," Harry said as he reached into his robes. 'Moody' who was standing to the side with his wand trained on Harry, tensed and watched Harry's movements very closely.

Neither of the men had entirely expected to see Harry pull out a small object, the size of a matchbox.

Harry took his miniaturized trunk and set it down on the floor in front of him. He paused and looked over at 'Moody'.

"Can you unshrink it? Seeing as how you've taken my wand, I can't do it on my own."

"What's in it?" 'Moody' asked, eying the tiny trunk as if it were contaminated with something deadly and dangerous.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just books, and none of them are even cursed."

Harry noticed, out of the corner of his eyes, that Voldemort's demeanor shifted slightly, and a margin of curiosity entered the tiny figure's eyes. "Do it, Barty," Voldemort said with a disinterested tone that didn't fool Harry at all.

'Moody' walked over and tapped his wand on the top of the trunk. It instantly returned to it's normal size and Harry leaned over, turning the latch and hissed out the password to the third compartment.

Voldemort's eyes widened and blazed with curiosity.

"Notechus?" Voldemort asked, translating the name that Harry had used for his parseltongue password back into English.

"Er, yeah. Notechus Noir is the alias I've been using when ordering things from Knockturn Alley, and any questionable vendors. The name Harry Potter is a bit too well known, after all. Notechus is the Latin name for the tiger snake. Noir is for Black, as in my godfather, Sirius Black..." Harry paused and looked around the room, suddenly. "Where _is_ Wormtail, by the way? I was honestly hoping to see the little rat bastard while I was here."

"Wormtail is otherwise engaged at the moment... how is it that you knew he was here?" Voldemort asked with annoyed curiosity blazing in his eyes.

"Ah, yes. I'll be getting to that real soon here. Let's get this out of the way first. Consider it a bit of a peace offering, I guess. It's sort of an 'I'm sorry I was such a stupid little brat in my first year and delayed your revival by an extra three years'-gift. I won't apologize for the thing that happened when I was a baby, because I honestly don't think that _I _had anything to do with that. I mean... I am sorry that it happened because a decade as a floating spirit really had to suck, but I don't think it was _my _fault." Harry said as he began to pull book after book out of his trunk and stack them on the floor beside it.

"Those books!" Voldemort gasped as he began to recognize them.

"I brought you the originals. I made copies of quite a few of them for myself to keep though. When I first thought up the idea to bring them to you, I kind of hated it because it would mean parting with them myself and I've grown quite fond of these books. I set myself the task of figuring out how to copy them, and since pretty much all of these books predated the copy-protection charms that book publishers use these days, it wasn't too hard for me to manage. In the end I knew it was worth the effort. I knew you'd appreciate this more than just about anything else I could bring you right now."

By the time Harry had finished talking and pulling out all of the books he had prepared to give to Voldemort, the small man-creature had directed his levitating chair up much closer and was now leaning forward and inspecting the books with wild, excited eyes.

"You found Slytherin's study." Voldemort stated, not taking his eyes off the books.

Harry grinned. "Yup. Been spending most of my time there this year, actually. The chamber is just fantastic for dark spell practice since it's not connected to any of the school's wards, but still shielded from the Ministry's magic detection. I can cast all sorts of nasty things while I'm down there and no one is the wiser at all. It's bloody _brilliant!_"

Voldemort continued to examine the pile of books with a carefully concealed excitement for a moment longer before his eyes narrowed with suspicion and they slowly trailed up to look at Harry.

"Enough stalling brat. I want an explanation. You _know_ things you should not know. There is more going on here than you've let on. I demand answers."

Harry nodded his head and gave a weak grin. "Alright. Are you aware that you left a piece of yourself behind when you tried to kill me when I was a baby?"

"A _piece of myself?_" Voldemort said in an almost mocking tone. "And _what_ exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"A sliver of your soul broke off and got stuck to me."

Voldemort's face took on a look of incredulity, which morphed into shock, which then morphed into dawning realization and understanding. Harry found it fascinating to watch the expressions unfold on the face of the miniature snake-like human creature. All of this transpired across his face in a matter of seconds before he mastered his expression to a mask of suspicion.

"Explain," Voldemort ordered in a harsh whisper.

And so Harry did. He began by telling the dark lord how he used to escape into his mind when he was younger, but there was a dark spot there that scared him, so he began to try and build a mental wall around it. About his theory that he had done some sort of accidental mind magic, and had, for years, continued to focus an enormous amount of his magic towards keeping that wall up, and keeping him separate from the dark spot in his mind.

He told him about at the Halloween feast, when his name came out of the cup, how everyone had turned against him. About how the supposed great, indestructible friendship between he and his Gryffindor friends, had been tossed aside so easily.

He explained the first night that he slipped back into his mindscape in years and years, and his rediscovery of the dark spot. His realization that he had been throwing a mountain of magic at it all these years, and his decision to take the magical wall down.

Voldemort remained surprisingly silent. He didn't even snap at Harry for going on about idiotic sentimentalities. Instead he had a calculating look to him. He was obviously taking in every detail the boy was saying and analyzing the hidden meanings and explanations behind every event that Harry still didn't entirely understand.

"Looking back I see how much the way my mind works changed during that time... but at the time, I didn't notice anything at all," Harry mused at one point. "I started thinking differently. Not having so much of my subconscious dedicated to keeping up that wall allowed my mind to work so much faster and clearer. I was able to see the hidden motives and agendas behind things. I..." he chuckled and shrugged, "I became a lot more cynical about things, but honestly, I like to think that I became lot more _realistic._ Less gullible. Less _foolish._

"I started to see Dumbledore's manipulations for what they were. I know you've got Wormtail here, so I assume you know at least a bit about the whole business with my godfather? Sirius Black was my parents secret keeper, and he got framed for giving them up, and then killing all those muggles that the rat blasted apart. He got sent off to Azkaban without a trial. Not even a questioning under Veritaserum. Nothing. Just carted straight off to prison.

"Thing is, I started to wonder – why wouldn't Dumbledore have done anything to make sure _Justice_ was properly served? That's his thing, isn't it? All moral high ground and that rot. He's the _head_ of the Wizengamot. He could have insisted that Sirius at least get a questioning under truth serum. Shouldn't he have _wanted_ to? To get some more information about me having survived? If he was really your follower and was in on the whole _you coming to get us_ plot, then he might have known something. He should have been questioned. But Dumbledore didn't insist on anything of the sort. He let him just get carted straight off to prison.

"So I was wondering... _why_? But then I found out something even _more_ interesting. Apparently, Dumbledore had me taken straight from the wreckage of my parent's house to the Dursley's front porch, the night it all happened. I was found on their doorstep on November 1st. Sirius hadn't even caught up to Wormtail by then, let along have been accused of killing him and a bunch of muggles. When I was left in the hands of those disgusting muggle trash, I still had an entirely valid and worthwhile guardian assigned by my parent's will, to take me in.

"I wrote my aunt a letter about a month ago asking her about what they were told by Dumbledore about having to take me in. I knew she would never be too keen on helping me out, so I laced the letter with a compulsion charm, and the stupid bint wrote back right away. Apparently Dumbledore only left a letter with me. That was it. He left me on their bloody doorstep, all night long, with nothing more than a _letter_, telling them that they _had_ to take me in. He didn't even stick around to talk with them. Just ditched me on the porch. In his letter, he gave every indication that it was a permanent placement, and they had no choice but to accept. He had no intention of me ever leaving them to go to my godfather.

"That's why he let Sirius get carted off without a trial. He didn't _want _me to end up with him. He wanted me with those muggles. His excuse about me getting a fat head from fame, if I had been raised in the wizarding world may sound valid enough, but I think it's a lot more insidious than that. He wanted me _ignorant_," Harry growled. He didn't realize it, but his eyes had slowly begun to glow a deep verdant green as the slow boiling rage within him grew. Voldemort watched this with concealed glee, and a powerful curiosity. The glowing green color was remarkably reminiscent of the glow of the killing curse. He could feel the dark magic rolling off the boy and he had to admit that Harry Potter seemed to contain a _monumental_ amount of magic for his age.

Voldemort's experience observing the boy during his first year had been annoyingly disappointing. _Harry Potter_, his prophesied _vanquisher_, was a down-right pathetic student, and a below-average wizard. There was nothing magically remarkable about the boy at all. In fact, he had seemed magically _weak. _ But now, knowing what he knew about the boy having dedicated what had to have been a tremendous amount of his magic to keeping his horcrux at bay, the boy's poor magical performance earlier in life made a world of sense.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his head as he visibly centered himself and pushed down some of his rage. Next he began recanting how his 'companion' began to grow in consciousness. How it became a presence in his mind, and how it began to relay images, ideas, and emotions to Harry, even during his waking time spent outside of his mindscape.

Harry described the potions class when his 'companion' first spoke to him, and then how he was gradually able to speak more often, and remain in Harry's conscious mind for longer periods of time. Harry explained about how his companion's voice tended to be a rather raspy staccato, and how he was more often than not, rather vague, but that he was still able to get the message across when it was really important.

He continued on, eventually covering the visions, and the various things he had gradually come to understand over the last few months.

–

Voldemort found it utterly fascinating that his horcrux had become sentient and powerful enough to communicate with the boy, and yet he was mildly concerned that it had _told him_ what it was. As Harry continued to describe his interactions with his horcrux and the things it had taught him, and guided him to figure out himself, he was intrigued. Apparently it had only recently told him what 'it' was. That it was a piece of Voldemort's soul. It had also left out the fact that there were others, or what they were called. Potter never once uttered the word _horcrux_, and it appeared this 'companion' as Potter referred to it, had a tendency to be rather vague when explaining things. Still, the fact that _anyone_ knew about his horcruxes was upsetting.

The fact that he had inadvertently made _Harry bloody Potter_ into one left him in a state of uncertainty. He needed time to analyze the various ramifications of this. He also needed to completely rethink his resurrection ritual.

When Barty had first come to him and told him that _Harry Potter_ had come to his office, and _volunteered_ to _help_ with Voldemort's resurrection, his initial reaction was to think the whole thing a trap, and wonder how the hell the old man had found out what was going on.

He had known that if it _were_ true – which, surely it could not be true – that he would need to make a few alterations to his ritual. It _would_ be considerably more powerful if Potter's blood was given freely in an act of betrayal... and if the boy's magic was truly dark, as Barty had suggested it might be, then... well the possibilities were rather intriguing. His resurrection could be going much better than he had expected, if any of this were true.

But now... _now!_ Oh, how this changed things... The boy truly was _dark_. Incredibly so. He rarely saw such a purely dark aura, and never in one so young. Granted, his own aura _had_ been that dark at this age, but he was rather unique. But it really did make sense when considering that his own soul had tainted the boy so thoroughly. So the boy was dark, and it really did appear that Potter was willing to betraying everyone and joining his side. The boy honestly wanted to aid in his resurrection of his own free will. All of these factors would drastically change his ritual, but add the fact that the boy was a horcrux, and he was having serious trouble reigning in his own insane glee.

He had wanted to involve one of his horcruxes in the resurrection ritual. It would have made things so much smoother, and returned his new body to full strength almost instantly. There would be no long arduous process of acclimating the body to his magic once it was completed.

It had been one of the reasons he had made Nagini a horcrux using that stupid ministry bint, Jorkins, who so conveniently stumbled across him the summer prior. But Nagini was a horcrux created _after_ his body had been destroyed and he discovered that this would prevent him from properly using her in the ritual he devised. No... it had to be one he had created prior to the disaster with the Potters. But would one created _because_ of said disaster work? It would! He was sure of it. In fact, it was _ideal_.

When he'd first realized that Nagini wouldn't work he had considered going after one of his other horcruxes, but that hadn't been a viable option in the end because he was no where near strong enough to get past all of the protections he had placed around the ring and the locket. He had no chance of gaining access to Hogwarts for the diadem, and didn't trust _anyone_ else in retrieving it for him. Bellatrix was locked away in Azkaban, so he had no access to her vault to get the cup, and Voldemort didn't trust Lucius and his powerlust with Voldemort in his currently weakened state.

So he had had to settle for other options. He had turned to relying on only the boy's blood instead.

But now... now he could have the best of both worlds. It was as if the Fates were finally smiling upon him.

But that thought really only brought him back to other concerns.

The damned Prophecy. What would all this mean with the prophecy? He never had heard the entire thing. Could it have perhaps spoken of the boy turning? If he allowed the boy to live, would he be putting himself at risk? The boy couldn't possibly _vanquish_ him, seeing as how as long as the boy lived, Voldemort was immortal. The boy's very existence made it impossible for him to die.

There had to be more. It was more obvious than ever that he needed to learn the full prophecy. Could he use the boy for that?

Voldemort refocused on Harry Potter and a sly grin spread across his lips. He had remained quiet for several long minutes once the boy had stopped relaying his story, and the other had been surprisingly patient for someone his age. He looked oddly... comfortable. That was almost unsettling. No one _ever_ looked _comfortable_ in his presence. Terrified, cowed, reverent... but never _comfortable._

"I will need some time to rework the ritual," he said finally and Harry grinned and nodded.

"I figured as much."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed but he didn't acknowledge the statement any further. He had been greatly unsettled when Potter had recounted his 'dream visions' he had where he had been inside Voldemort's mind. Seeing, thinking, and feeling as him. Given the nature of their unique connection, he could understand how it was possible, but he was still entirely displeased by this breach of his mental security. If things had been different; if the boy hadn't turned dark; the breach could have been disastrous for him.

However, Potter made it sound like any of these 'visions' that he had, before embracing Voldemort's horcrux, had been vague, difficult to remember, and so painful he found it difficult to think clearly after one. It wasn't until he had begun to turn dark and meld with the horcrux that the visions cleared up and became coherent.

Voldemort considered his next action for a long moment. He was greatly inclined to simply hold the boy at the manor until his preparations were complete. The idea of letting this opportunity slip through his fingers by allowing Potter to go back to Hogwarts, left bile in his throat. But it would be a necessary test.

If he was to incorporate the boy's _voluntary participation_ in the ritual, it had to actually _be voluntary._ The boy had to choose to return for the ritual. And he felt strangely sure that the boy _would_ return.

"Barty will take you back to Hogwarts. I will contact him when I am ready to perform the ritual. It shouldn't be long. You will come when he says it is time. Is that understood?" Voldemort said in a tone that booked no room for argument. Oddly enough, the boy _grinned_.

"Sounds like a plan. Not that my input is really welcome, but if you could work it to be on either a Wednesday afternoon or sometime during a weekend, that would be great. If it's got to be an all-night sort of thing, then a Tuesday night would be grand. I've only got charms on Wednesdays and nothing else. I could easily skiv the class off too, if need be."

"Still so confident that I'll be letting you leave, afterwards?" Voldemort remarked drying with a raised brow.

"You're letting me leave now, aren't you? Besides, even without the whole 'my existing makes you immortal' thing, I know I can be useful to you if I stay on the 'in' with the old goat."

Voldemort smirked, even thought he knew he should have glared. The brat was obstinate and impertinent, and yet it somehow didn't piss him off. The boy reminded him of himself at that age, only with far more pathetic manners, and an annoyingly cocky demeanor. But he could work on that. This arrangement with Potter could prove to be extremely beneficial if he played his cards right.

He had thought that Dumbledore was trying to groom the boy into taking his place as Lord of the Light, but it was looking more and more that the old man had only considered the boy his weapon, and nothing more. Well, if he had hoped the boy to one day take his place, he was in for quite a surprise.

His grin spread.

Very interesting, indeed.

–

It was nearing dawn by the time everything had been completed and Harry returned to the manor's entry hall with 'Moody'. The man had continued to drink from his flask and maintain his transformation, rather than under go the painful discomfort of transforming back to his true self, and then back into Moody when it was time to leave. Harry was mildly disappointed at not getting to see Barty in his true form, but knew it really didn't matter at the moment.

They activated the 2-way portkey and reappeared at the exact same spot in the tunnel that they had left from. Harry was exhausted and once he and 'Moody' parted ways after exiting the tunnel, Harry slipped on his cloak and made his way to the hospital wing. He'd been there plenty enough times that he knew exactly where Madam Pomfrey kept the Pepper-Up potions and a simple _Alohomora_ was all that was needed to unlock the cabinet. Considering that the unlocking charm was a second-year spell (although, of course, Hermione had known it in first), he wondered why people even bothered using such a weak locking spell on anything.

He slipped the potion into his pocket, intent on taking it shortly before breakfast, and slipped out of the hospital wing unnoticed by any. By the time he made it up to his dorm room, there was only an hour and a half before the rest of his dorm mates would be getting up to get ready for breakfast. He quickly changed into bed clothes and laid down in bed. An hour and a half of sleep wouldn't likely do him much good, but he could at least slip into his mindscape and discuss the nights events with his companion.

The experience had been bewilderingly exhilarating. Part of him still couldn't believe that he'd really done it. He had gone to _Voldemort!_ He had spent the night in the company of the most powerful dark lord to come about in centuries, and he had loved every ruddy minute of it. Just _being near him_ had been incredible to Harry's magical senses. The very air was alive with the powerful wizard's magic, and that was despite him being in an extremely limited form.

He _couldn't wait_ until the man was fully restored. How insane was that? He was _bloody excited_, and vibrating with anxious anticipation for the resurrection ritual. He wished it would be that weekend, but he doubted it would be ready so soon. Perhaps it would be the following Wednesday? If it ended up needing to be any other day of the week he could still make it work. It would make Hermione suspicious, but hopefully he could work around it. Make something up about the old Albic book? Or maybe something else entirely. He'd work something out.

Harry let out a long sigh, trying to disperse some of his excitement, and slipped into his mindscape.

– –


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

The ritual was not that weekend. Nor was it the next Wednesday. On Thursday afternoon, Harry tried to catch 'Moody's' eye several times, but the professor basically ignored him.

The week had felt like it was dragging on, and Harry's patience was wearing thin. He had tried to keep himself preoccupied by spending a half hour each afternoon practicing various magics – mostly dark – down in the chamber, and then spending an hour or two copying more pages of the old elven book. He still spent his late evenings in the common room with Ron and Hermione to get his classwork finished, but even they could tell he was distracted.

By Friday, Harry had twenty pages of the book copied into a bound parchment notebook and gave a copy to Hermione so she could start translating it. She had been extremely eager to start working on the translation of it. She had been devouring her copy of the Old Aldric book all week long, and had spent many of their meals raving to Harry about how fascinating the language was.

Harry had been regularly checking the charmed parchment that was linked to a counterpart in 'Moody's' possession. Nothing had appeared. To say that Harry was getting frustrated, was an understatement.

Harry was sitting in Potions, Friday afternoon, lazily stirring the Wit-Sharpening potion in his cauldron. It was currently a milky white color with inconsistent little lumps floating about, but it was supposed to turn into a translucent yellow by the time it was done. He really wasn't paying it much attention. It was a stupid-weak potion, as far as Harry was concerned. It's effects would only last for about an hour and a half hour, and you couldn't take another dose for twenty-four hours after that. How useless is that?

Harry had found several potions, spells, and rituals that had _far_ more beneficial effects on one's _wit_ and cleverness than the potion they were practicing that day. The thing was that most said potions, spells, and rituals were either dark, illegal, or required illegal ingredients to brew. _Sooo..._ the potion they were brewing that day was the best anyone trying to stay on the _proper_ side of the law, could rely on. Harry was under the impression that there were some post NEWTs level potions that temporarily aided in one's intelligence that were not illegal, but they were so difficult to brew that few could pull it off.

In any case, Harry felt he had very little interest in the potion he was currently brewing, and was only doing it as a part of the class, and not because he would ever want to use it at some point and be grateful of the knowledge.

What was even worse was that the damned potion was in it's incredibly boring stage of the brewing. He had to just sit there and stir, once, counter-clockwise every 3 minutes, and then wait thirty seconds and do five quick clockwise stirs, before waiting 3 minutes to do the counter-clockwise stirs again. Rinse and Repeat. He was very very bored.

He had just hit the three minute wait and leaned back on his stool to stretch his back a bit. He sighed heavily and glanced around at his fellow students around them. From what he could tell, Hermione was the only other Gryffindor who has at the 'stir and be bored' stage. Her potion was the same color and consistency as Harry's was. A quick glance to the other side of the room showed that at least, Malfoy, Zabini, and Greengrass were also at that stage, although he couldn't see into their cauldrons to see what color they were.

Snape swept through the center aisle and paused to glare disdainfully down at Harry. Harry rose a single eyebrow up at the man with a questioning, yet also disinterested look to him.

Snape's eyes narrowed and his lips curled, but just before he was able to open his mouth to spout something that would undoubtedly result in Gryffindor house loosing some points, a knock came at the dungeon door.

Snape's head spun around glared, curiously at the door.

"Enter," he drawled with a sneer.

At this point, just about everyone had turned on their stools to look back at the entrance to the classroom, looking at the door with notable curiosity. When the door opened, and the person responsible for the interruption was revealed, to say that everyone was rather shocked, would be an understatement.

Igor Karkaroff, walked in through the room, holding his head high, but looking decidedly nervous, if the way his eye was twitching was any indicator.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he watched the man walk straight for Snape and begin to whisper rather furiously.

Snape held up his hand and looked around at the room full of curious eyes that were trained on the two of them.

"Get back to work!" he barked and everyone quickly began to shuffle their supplies and look busy.

Snape looked exceedingly displeased with the other man's appearance, but jerked his head towards the back of the classroom and the two made their way over there.

At this point, Harry already had his wand out and in hand below his desk. He pretended to knock some random potion ingredient off of his desk so he could bend down, and while out of view, he pointed the wand at his ear and silently incanted _Declamo_ in his mind. Next he pointed his wand at the two adults on the other side of the room, from under his desk and kept it trained on them, like a long-distance microphone.

"– are you out of your mind! What the devil do you think you are doing interrupted my class!"

"You cannot avoid me now, Severus!"

"I am not _avoiding _you," Snape sneered. "I have been _busy!"_

"Something is going to happen, Severus! It has never been so clear! Not since..."

"I know very well, you fool. Now shut up, and get out of my classroom!"

"What if he _summons us!"_ Karkaroff hissed in a panicked voice.

"What you do is entirely your prerogative, Igor," Snape sneered, "What _I _do, is my business and my business alone."

"I cannot go back! He vill kill me for sure!"

"And _I._ _Don't. Care!" _Snape hissed "Now, OUT!"

Igor stood up straighter and pierced Snape with a look of pure loathing. He spun on his feet and headed back down the center aisle and out the door with a quick stride.

Harry quickly tucked his wand away and glanced at his point just in time to realize he had missed stirring it and it was turning brown.

_Well, crap._ He muttered to himself before sighing and banished the whole cauldron of potion with a quick flick of his wand.

– –

"So what do you think _that_ was all about?" Ron asked in a hushed voice as he, Harry, and Hermione exited the dungeons twenty minutes later and began to make their way towards the great hall.

"What was what, all about, Ron?" Harry asked in a disinterested voice.

"What! Are you joking! That thing with Snape and Karkaroff!"

"Oh... right. That."

"Uh, _yeah... THAT._" Ron said, exaggeratedly.

"Do you think something is going to happen?" Hermione said in a worried tone as she looked at the other two. She seemed to hesitate and was looking at Harry while chewing on her bottom lip. "Harry?"

Harry eyed her with mild suspicion, but kept it hidden. "Yeah?"

"You... you remember when you told us about that dream you had at the end of summer? The one with You-Know-Who and Wormtail... and the other man?"

Harry's steps slowly slightly, but he kept his face impassive. "Yeah? What about it?"

"Have... have you had any _more_ dreams like that?"

Ron's eyes were filled with quite a lot of curiosity at this as well, and was looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry simply shrugged and shook his head. "Nope. Not a thing. My scar hasn't even hurt once. I mean, Ron can attest to the dreams thing. I haven't woken up with a single nightmare all term, have I Ron?"

Ron scrunched up his face and looked thoughtful – a.k.a. constipated.

"Hmm... now that you mention it... you _haven't._ Not since before Halloween anyway. Didn't you have one or two of them in September?"

This time Harry twisted up his face, but then shrugged dismissively. "If I did, I don't remember them."

Hermione turned forward and the three of them resumed their journey to the great hall. She looked to be deep in thought, which as far as Harry was concerned, was _never_ a good thing when it came to her trying to figure out a secret that involved him. But she hadn't seemed to piece anything together about him so far this term, and he'd been slipping into her head for surface scans from time to time, just to make sure she wasn't getting too close to anything dangerous.

She wasn't. She was suspicious, but she had no idea what was going on with him. She had formulated a whole slew of theories, and while some of them were mildly concerning, they still weren't even remotely close to the truth.

The trio reached the great hall, found their seats, and Ron instantly set to loading his plate with food. Hermione continued her deep-in-thought look and Harry had to repress an annoyed scowl.

He sighed and decided to deal with it after getting some food in his stomach, so he focused on his meal instead.

About fifteen minutes later, 'Moody' stomped his way into the great hall and made his wait straight to the head table, and to his usual seat. Harry glanced up at the man, and instead of being pointedly ignored, like he had for the entire previous week, the man was staring straight at him. Harry almost did a double-take, but managed to subdue it into a mild flinch.

The pair met eyes and 'Moody' did a curt nod before reaching his hand into the front inner-pocket of his robes and pulling out the slightest sight of a piece of folded parchment before it was instantly pushed back inside.

Harry's eyes lit up with an excited fire, and he only _just_ managed to refrain from taking on an enormous eager grin. Instead he gave the other man a small smirk and an equally curt nod before looking down at his meal and continuing to eat, as if nothing had happened.

Once he was done with his food, and Ron, clearly was _not_, Harry pulled out his bag and fished around in it for a book. The book in question was called Defense on the Dark-side of Gray by Temerity Winickus, but the cover was charmed to look Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard.

Folded between the last two pages was what normally looked to all the world like a blank piece of parchment. Harry pulled it out and folded it, just slightly below the lip of the table to keep it out of view. He looked down and was thrilled to see 'Moody's' handwriting, where there was usually nothing.

_It's tonight._

_Midnight by the statue. _

A wide, wicked smile had spread across Harry's lips as he stared down at the parchment. He quickly schooled his expression, and tapped the paper with his wand, clearing the text. He folded it back up and stuck it back in between the last two pages of the book.

_Tonight! Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight!_

The chant ran through his head, and it was all he could do to keep his face impassive, while internally, he was dancing an insane little jig.

"Hey, Harry. What's up with you?" Ron's voice broke in through Harry's internal glee, causing him to look up with a quick snap.

"Huh?"

"You just look like you're in a pretty good mood. What's up?"

"Oh. Uh... nothing really. It's Friday. You know... just looking forward to the weekend."

Ron grinned. "Yeah, me too. I hate having Snape's class last on Fridays, but I'm glad it's over."

"Yeah," Harry said grinning. "Me too..."

– –

Harry knew he was being fidgety that evening. He was anxious and excited. He could hardly focus on any of his homework and finally he made an excuse about getting some fresh air, which Hermione and Ron knew was just an excuse for him running off to whatever place he disappeared to, but they both had learned by now that asking where he was _really_ going was a waste of time because he just wouldn't tell them.

Harry went down to the chamber and went straight for the basilisk. He was grateful that the thing was over 50 feet long, because he was quickly decimating it's corpse with his spell practice.

He quickly lost himself in his violent dark magic assault on the beast. His mind was euphoric and utterly absorbed in what he was doing. He was exceedingly relieved for a distraction to help the time pass faster, and before he even realized it, the 'watch' on his wrist was beginning to grow hot, signaling that it had been an hour and he needed to reign his magic in.

He was panting from the exertion, and his eyes were on fire with the blazing euphoric insanity the dark magic induced. As he slowly pulled himself back together, he calmed the giggles that he often found escaped him after an especially violent session. He was going to have to move onto a new section of snake soon. He had gone through skin, muscle, and even some of the bone in the section he had been concentrating on for the last couple weeks. And apparently basilisk bone was supposed to be damn-near impenetrable. But then again, it's skin was supposed to be 'magic resistant' too, and it clearly wasn't.

It had become obvious to Harry that when people talked about things being 'magically resistant' they were talking about 'normal' magic. Neutral magic, and probably light magic too, although he admitted that he had found next to nothing on magic that was specifically 'light' in nature. He knew that the Patronus was a light spell. He had actually tried casting it a number of weeks prior, just to make sure he still could. He could.

It wasn't difficult to cast, although it did _feel_ strange now. It felt... _wrong._ The taste of the magic was all sour and he didn't like it at all.

He had considered searching the school's library for books on specific light spells, but had only a mild curiosity on it, so he hadn't yet bothered. He wasn't the least bit surprised not to find any books on _that_ type of magic down in Slytherin's study.

In any case, he seriously doubted that even high level light spells could get through something like basilisk flesh. From what he understood, light spells just weren't intended to be that destructive. It was the destructive nature of the dark that made it so powerful.

Even after his 'work out', Harry was feeling too edgy to go back up to the common room. He knew his behavior would seem really off, and if he spent time around the Gryffindors, they would notice that he was acting even stranger than usual. Instead, he settled himself down on the chaise lounge and opened up to a chapter of _Tip-Toeing Through the Mind of the Unaware_ by Clair Videre.

He'd skimmed through the book a few times, and bothered to read all the way through a couple of the chapters. With the book, he had learned that the nifty little mind-reading trick he'd been using was something called Legilimency. What had _really_ interested him lately, and what had made him pick the book back up, was the discovery that Legilimency had a 'brother' magic called Occlumency. While Legilimency let you read a person's mind, Occlumency taught you how to create barriers to keep others out of your head.

Tip-Towing Through the Mind of the Unaware, however, was a book on Legilimency; not Occlumency. It only had a single chapter dedicated to Occlumency, and that was what Harry was reading now.

It sounded fairly complicated, and had several levels of proficiency. The first level – the only one discussed in the book in any depth – was the act of simply clearing your mind the moment you detect an unwelcome presence. Clear the mind, and leave them in a big empty expanse so that, even though they're in your mind, they have nothing to read.

While this was fine and dandy, Harry was more interested is keeping a person from entering his mind at all, and for _that_, it was obvious he was going to have to find a book, specifically on Occlumency.

Harry sighed, set the book down on the table beside the chaise, and massaged his temples. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander to what was going to be taking place that night. Voldemort – the _Dark Lord – _was going to be performing a ritual to restore his body, and Harry was going to go voluntarily help him accomplish it.

Rationally, Harry knew he was being... very irrational. Or perhaps, he was being _too_ rational. He wasn't really sure. He tended not to actually _think_ about what he was really doing, all that often. He was a bit too overwhelmed by the emotions that surrounded it. He knew that on some level, it felt entirely _right_. His magic was pushing him towards this, and he felt insanely excited over the prospect of the Dark Lord, returning. Rationally, some tiny part inside him knew he should be screaming and running fighting tooth and nail to stop this from happening.

But then he asked himself... why? Why should he _not_ want this? Harry opened his eyes and looked across the room at nothing in particular. It seemed like a valid exercise. Why should he want it, versus why he shouldn't. He shouldn't just let his gut drive him on this. He knew he needed to make sure he put some serious thought behind it too.

First off... reasons to be excited. Reason to _want_ it.

Voldemort was the Dark Lord. Harry had become a dark wizard, and he liked it. He refused to even slightly regret his choices, and had come to terms with the fact that he had gone dark. As a dark wizard, he felt drawn to the dark lord – he knew that. But he was also positive that it was greater than that. He felt connected to the man in the most indescribably intimate way. He knew it was because a portion of his soul had resided in Harry for as long as he could recall – even if he hadn't realized it until recently.

So... why should he want to stop it.

Voldemort was violent... well, that was true. But Harry had become rather violent himself and it didn't seem nearly as such a bad thing to him now as it had only six months prior.

Voldemort would start the war again. Loads of people would die. Harry conceded that that was possibly a valid excuse, but Harry also had an extremely strong sense in his gut that this sort of... _needed_ to happen. The fact that he didn't understand _why_, kept him from entirely agreeing with it, right out though. But he also refused to use the war as a reason to _not_ resurrect Voldemort either. He just didn't understand enough about the true motives and needs behind the war. Without that understanding, he couldn't use it to argue for or against the resurrection.

Voldemort killed his parents.

Harry rolled his eyes. Well that was a stupid reason. For Harry, his parents were just ideas. Intangible, idealized notions that had no real substance or meaning. He had never known his parents, so their loss didn't really _mean_ anything to him. What _was_ tangible was the way he was raised by those filthy muggle bastards, and the man who had abandoned him there. _That_ was tangible. And Voldemort was waging his war against _that man._

At least in part.

Well, as far as he was concerned, he simply didn't have enough reasons to _not_ help. If he helped, Voldemort would stop trying to hunt him down and kill him. He was pretty sure of that. Even with the whole 'part of his soul' and 'making him immortal' thing, Harry knew that if he continued to pose a threat to Voldemort, Harry was sure the man would still come after him. But if Harry sided with the Dark Lord... well, self-preservation was a pretty strong motivator. And in this case, it was really just a really good excuse to add on top of the fact that deep down in his gut, he _really really_ wanted to join the man.

So! Gut feeling, combined with desire not to die equals voluntarily aiding in the man's resurrection.

Harry chuckled to himself and rolled his eyes at the wall opposite him. He knew he was being ridiculous but really didn't care.

He cast a tempus and groaned in annoyance at the time displayed. It was only 8:30pm. But curfew was at ten o'clock, so it wasn't like he could stay down in the chamber much longer anyway.

Harry got up off the chaise and went over to the desk where he had the ancient elven book. He pulled out the copy that he'd been manually working on and opened to the last page he had worked on.

His copy and Hermione's copy were charmed together so anything he added to his would appear in hers as well. It had seemed like the easiest way for her to start work on translating it while he was still in the process of copying it.

He resumed where he left off after setting an alarm to ring once it reached nine o'clock. He would need to spend at least _some_ time in the common room or else his friends would badger him all weekend.

– –

Two and a half hours later, Harry was sitting down in the common room, trying not to scowl at the ruckus going on at one of the large tables in the common room, that currently housed, the twins, Lee Jordan, Seamus, Ron, and a couple other Gryffindors that Harry wasn't very familiar with.

They were playing some game that had managed to be even more annoying than exploding snap – a feat which Harry had never thought possible. Apparently the twins invented it. _If anyone could invent a game this obnoxious, it would be them._ Harry thought bitterly to himself as another ear piercing noise erupted form the table, followed by peals of laughter.

It was eleven o'clock, which meant that Harry only had one hour left till he needed to meet 'Moody', but none of his dorm mates had gone to bed yet, and the common room was still filled with people. Since it was Friday night, none of them felt it all that important to get to bed at a reasonable hour, and had chosen, instead, to stay up watching or playing the twin's and Lee Jordan's new game.

Harry had to face the fact that they would _not_ be going to bed before him, so he was going to have to pretend he was going to bed, rig his bed to look occupied and probably apply a sticking charm to his bed hangings, and then find a way to sneak out of the common room while it was still full of people.

His invisibility cloak would get him past everyone, but he would still need to open the portrait hole, and that _would_ get noticed. Hermione, at the very least, would notice if it opened and closed an no one appeared to be there. She would _know_ that Harry was sneaking out in his cloak.

Maybe he could open one of the windows up in the dorm room and fly out with his broom? That was a viable option. Harry hadn't touched his Firebolt in months, so he almost forgot he had it most days.

Harry glanced around the room, taking note of the locations of all his dorm mates. Dean was standing beside the large table, watching the game. Seamus and Ron were actually _playing_ the game... but what about Neville...

Harry looked around, trying to find his most timid room mate. He scowled when he didn't see him. Was Neville already up in bed? That would complicate things... He was sure he'd seen Neville down in the common room a few minutes earlier.

If Neville had just gone up, then Harry might still have a chance. Neville always took a shower before going to bed at night. He apparently hated doing it in the mornings and going to breakfast with wet hair.

Harry quickly began to pack up his homework into his bag. Hermione noticed this and looked at him questioningly.

"I'm getting pretty tired... I think I'll call it a night. Besides, I think I may be getting up early tomorrow."

"Oh? Why?" she asked curiously.

Harry raised his eyebrows and gave her a pointed look. She scowled at him, rolled her eyes, and huffed. "Fine, fine. Don't tell me," she grumbled while glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

Harry smiled. "Thanks Hermione."

Her glare softened into a resigned frown and she sighed. "Fine, fine... goodnight, Harry."

"G'night," he said as he slung his bag over his shoulder and raced up the stairs. Harry entered the room just as Neville was slipping into the bathroom and Harry heaved a brief sigh. He didn't have any time to waste though because Neville wasn't much one for long showers.

He ran over to his bed and grabbed one of the pillows. He transfigured it into a dummy with scruffy black hair. It looked like a pretty ambiguous store mannequin, but it would be sufficient as long as no one actually looked at it. He pulled the covers up over it and then pulled his hangings closed and applied a sticking charm to hold them shut. He quickly dug out his Firebolt, invisibility cloak, and the map. He tapped the top of his trunk to shrink it and slipped it into his breast pocket. He'd copied a few more of the books from the chamber during the last week and figured he could take them with him.

He put his invisibility cloak on first and grabbed his broom. He made his way over to the largest window in the dorm, unlatched and opened it, mounted his broom and hovered out. Once he was floating just beyond the window, he used his wand to shut it and relatch it.

The cloak didn't completely cover the broom beneath him, nor did it conceal him from anyone standing directly below him and looking up, so he quickly descended to ground level. Once he had landed he applied the shrinking charm to his broom and put the miniaturized broom into his pocket. He still had about forty-five minutes until he had to meet 'Moody', but figured he'd may as well start heading that way.

He activated the map and made his way towards the closest entrance that would let him back inside the school.

Thirty minutes later he was leaning against the wall in the defense corridor, just down the hall from the one-eyed witch statue. He'd had to dodge Filch, Mrs. Norris, Peeves, _and_ a couple patrolling prefects, so it had taken him longer than he had anticipated. So he was glad he'd had such a head start.

At five till midnight, Harry felt a mild disruption in the magic in the air and reached out with his magical senses. He was positive he was sensing what was probably 'Moody's' magical signature and almost pulled his cloak off before looking at the map. Fortunately he didn't. He glanced down at it to compare the location of the dot with where he thought he sensed the disillusioned wizard and nearly choked when he saw the name 'Severus Snape' by the little dot.

His eyes widened and he quickly pulled out his wand, just to be safe. He looked back at the map, searching for Bartemius Crouch and saw the man coming their way from several corridors away. Harry cast a silencing charm on his feet and began to make his way down the hall and away from where Snape had planted himself against the wall opposite the statue.

Once Harry got to the end of the hall and turned, he switched to a full-out run and headed straight for Barty. He caught up with the man's dot and was surprised to see him just openly _walking_ down the hall and not disillusioned at all.

"Moody!" Harry whispered harshly from a few feet away.

'Moody' froze and spun around with his wand drawn. "Potter?"

"We've got a problem," Harry growled lightly as he pulled the cloak off his face enough for the other wizard to see his eyes.

"What kind of problem?" 'Moody' asked as he rose a single eyebrow.

"Snape is down by the statue, disillusioned. Did you tell him? I mean... is he invited, or something?"

"What? Snape? Of course not. What the devil is he doing there?"

"Hell if I know. But wasn't he a Death Eater?

"Snape is a spy. Whether he's Dumbledore's spy or the Dark Lords, is still up for debate. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could spit."

Harry twisted up his face, trying to fully understand that last bit, but shrugged it off. _Don't trust Snape. Easy enough. I never trusted him in the first place. _"A spy huh? Interesting... It can't be a coincidence that he showed up tonight like that."

"No it can't," 'Moody' growled with a deep scowl. He turned his one good eye on Harry and narrowed it. "You didn't let it slip to anyone did you?"

"No! And I cleared the parchment the second I'd read it. Not like anyone else would be able to figure out exactly _which statue_ you mentioned. There're thousands of statues in the castle."

'Moody' nodded and scowled down the hall. "I'm going to need to do another bug sweep of my office," he grumbled. "Makes me wonder what else might have been _overheard..._"

"You do that. Anyway, we're really lucky I realized who he was. At first I thought he was you, coming in disillusioned like that. I'm glad I looked at the map before I took my cloak off."

"Map? The one that tells you the names of everyone in the school?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Is he still there?"

Harry pulled the map out from his cloak so that just his hands and the map were now floating in space in front of 'Moody'. Harry pointed at Snape's name with his other hand. "Still there."

'Moody' made a growling noise in the back of his throat and then pulled out a pocket watch and frowned.

"We can't sit around and wait for him to leave. We'll have to get out a different way. You wouldn't happen to know about any other secret passages, would you?"

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, there's a secret passageway that goes from the Shrieking Shack to the base of the Whomping Willow, but we'd have to go out to the Whomping Willow to get into it. There's also supposed to be one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, but I've never used it because I was told by the Weasley twins that Filch knows about that one and has it booby-trapped."

'Moody' snorted. "We'll take our chances with the tunnel behind the Smarmy statue. Filch is just a stupid filthy squib. Whatever 'booby-traps' he might have come up won't be a problem."

Harry nodded his head and pulled the map and his arms back under his cloak.

"I'll lead the way," Moody began, "you stay under your cloak and follow."

"Got it," Harry said.

Another five minutes and the pair of them were standing at the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. It only took 'Moody' a minute to figure out how to open the doorway behind it, which Harry was relieved for since he really had no idea how to get into this one.

Fifteen minutes of walking down a very narrow tunnel, while occasionally throwing freezing and stasis charms on whatever rudimentary alarm systems Filch had erected, and the pair felt themselves leave the boundary of the wards. 'Moody' pulled out the portkey, they both held onto it, and a second later, they were both being whisked away with a soft _pop_, and an uncomfortable tug behind the navel.

The two appeared in the same entry hall as last time. Harry managed to stay upright with only a little trouble this time, and once he had himself steadied, he reached into his pocket and pulled his wand out.

'Moody' instantly got on his guard when he saw Harry reaching for his wand, and was then only mildly surprised when Harry flipped the wand around in his hand so he was holding the tip of it and offered it to 'Moody'.

"I expect I still won't be permitted my wand, so I figured I'd save you the trouble of asking for it," Harry said with a smirk.

'Moody' _humphed_ and snatched the wand away. He instantly spun around with as much grace as a man with one wooden leg could have and began to make his way through the entry hall towards a hallway.

Harry looked after him curiously for a moment before he quickly hurried after. 'Moody' led him down a couple of corridors with detailed wooden wainscoting and ornate polished lighting fixtures that had their light bulbs removed and were currently being lit with magically conjured balls of light.

Harry felt a tingling sensation in his scar appear and begin to slowly grow the further they traveled through the house, and a wide grin began to spread across his lips. He pulled his magic out and let it stretch out and around him as he tasted the magic around him. The house was originally muggle and that was obvious, but was also clear that a number of magical additions had been made to the structure. Harry was pretty sure he detected some space expansion magic from behind a few closed doors.

He sent his magic out further and instantly knew where they were heading. There was a powerful mass of magic in a room at the end of the hall. It was also the same place that the tingle in his scar told him Voldemort was.

'Moody' was about ten feet from the door when he suddenly hunched over and began to twist and clench. Harry froze, surprised by the sudden change in the man's demeanor. He was confused for all of five seconds before he noticed the man's skin bubbling and stretching. Moody began to scramble at the fake leg, releasing the belts and latches that held it in place, and slid down the wall and onto the floor. The next moment, his hand was up, clasping over his magic eye, just in time to catch it as it popped out of his socket.

Harry scrunched up his face as he watched 'Moody's' Polyjuice dose wear off, and the man slowly transformed back into his true self.

It only took a moment, but Harry was sure it was _not_ a pleasant experience. Barty Crouch stood, unsteadily, to his feet and nudged the fake leg that now lay on the floor, over to the wall. He pocketed the fake eye and looked back at Harry.

The man standing before him looked to be about thirty years old, had pale skin, messy straw-colored hair and a light dusting of freckles on his skin. He had dark eyes that were sunken and had a wild insanity to them. As he looked back at Harry he gave him a rather mad-looking toothy grin.

"Well, Potter... _now_ we go to our Lord. Are you ready?"

Harry returned the toothy grin and nodded his head eagerly. "I am."

Barty cackled lightly and turned back towards the doors at the end of the hall. It was a set of double-doors, but he only pulled one open and slipped in quietly. Harry hurried after him and as soon as he entered the room, he was instantly met with a kneeling Barty just a few feet in front of him.

"My Lord. I have brought back Harry Potter," Barty was saying with a reverent glee, while keeping his head bowed low.

Harry stood there for a moment, taking in his surroundings. From what he could tell, they had just come in a back entrance to a mid-sized ball room of sorts. Any furniture that might have once been there had been banished. In the center of the room was the largest potions cauldron that Harry had ever seen. It was suspended above a magical fire and the contents in it were already boiling away.

Around the cauldron were concentric circles etched into the floor, along with a number of runes and odd symbols at key points. Hunched over, and still in the process of _writing_ some of these symbols, was none other than Wormtail. And sitting in his levitating chair, towards the side, was the Dark Lord himself. He turned and Harry saw the tiny reptilian man smirk at the kneeling Barty.

"Very good, Barty. And welcome, both of you, to _my resurrection_." he said with a grandiose wave of one of his tiny bony arms and a wicked cackle. Barty's head rose and a wild delight spread across his face while his eyes blazed with triumph.

Harry found himself sporting a rather similar expression, as he felt the intense anticipation in his chest growing to a breaking point.

Voldemort motioned his arm towards the only piece of furniture that remained in the room, a small, but long buffet-type table that was placed along the wall beside the door that Harry and Barty had entered through.

"Potter, there are instructions there that you should make yourself familiar with," Voldemort said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Harry bowed his head in a quick motion. "Yes my Lord," he said as he turned and took a couple quick strides to the table and picked up the parchment. He quickly read through it, his eyes widening with each additional line. His eyes darted back down to the table, where he saw the ritual dagger laying on a piece of black velvet.

He glanced back at Voldemort who had a wicked grin on his face. He rose a single questioning eyebrow at Harry as if daring him to argue. Harry rolled his eyes and began to take off his robes.

"Alright. Do I have to carve them into myself, or is Barty going to be doing this? I'd really rather it not be Wormtail, but I do realize that I don't have a lot of say in the proceedings," Harry said as he folded his school robes and began to unbutton his undershirt.

A very brief look of surprise flitted across Voldemort's serpentine features for a second before his smirk returned.

"It doesn't bother you? This will not be a _pain free_ ordeal for you."

"I never expected anything of the sort. Besides, it says they won't scar, and that's the only thing I'd really worry about since my dorm mates would probably notice strange ancient runes-shaped scars on my body that didn't used to be there. I doubt the pain will be the worse I've ever experienced, and certainly not the worse self-inflicted pain. I think I've managed to set the bar pretty high for that already."

"Is that so? You've peaked my curiosity, Potter. Explain."

"Ever heard of Drajiou's Excellerant potion?" Harry asked as he began to slip the now unbuttoned shirt off his arms and fold it.

Voldemort's eyes grew wider now and he actually began to chuckle. "Did you finish the full process? All eight doses?"

"Yup," Harry said with a pained look before placing the now folded shirt down on folded robes.

"And you survived with your sanity in tact?" Voldemort asked with mild disbelief in his tone.

Harry laughed. He laughed hard. Then he shrugged and looked sheepish. "Well I suppose that's debatable, isn't it? But I would say I did. I actually escaped into my mindscape during the majority of it, but it was unavoidable to experience _some_ of that pain, no matter how quickly I tried to slip inside myself once I'd taken the dose."

"They say the pain is worse than a half dozen simultaneous _cruciatus _curses_, _drawn out over a ten hour span of time," Voldemort mused with an air of mild respect. "Why would you put yourself through that, may I ask?"

"Well... I suppose that I didn't honestly expect it to be _that bad_, when I first set out to do it. But I really wanted to fix my body. I was just... _sick_ of living with the results of being treated like a house elf for a decade. I mean..." he paused and waved his hand down at his now bare chest, "I'm rather fond of the results, if I'm being honest. What I looked like _before_ the accellerant potion doesn't even compare."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he looked rather displeased. Harry felt a bolt of fear shoot through him, but it was fear that he had somehow managed to displease Voldemort and he had no idea why.

"What did these _muggles_ do to you, _exactly?"_ Voldemort hissed and Harry found himself caught off guard by the question.

"Oh... well, they tossed me in a boot cupboard under the stairs and made that my 'bedroom' up until I was eleven and got my Hogwarts letter. I had to clean their house, cook their meals, do their gardening, do the laundry, and they frequently refused to feed me as a form of punishment for not meeting their oh so high standards of perfect normalcy. Oh, and if I was ever unfortunate enough to perform any accidental magic, I was locked in the cupboard and refused food for days. As a result of spending an inordinate amount of time in a tiny, dark space without food, I ended up malnourished, short, and sickly. Even the regular meals at Hogwarts weren't enough to counteract the damage done over the previous ten years, so I was scrawny and pathetic looking. I prefer this," Harry finished, making another motion towards his chest.

"What potions did you accelerate?" Voldemort asked, looking away and trying to appear disinterested. Harry felt a burning in his scar though, and saw a glimmer of pure rage in the man's ruby eyes. He rose a single eyebrow – wondering exactly what _that_ was about, but quickly realized that the Dark Lord had asked him a question, and that it would not be wise to keep him waiting.

"Just two. An advanced nutritional restorative potion, and a bone and muscle restructuring potion. So basically the accellerant tore apart my bones, muscles, and tendons, each time I took it, and rebuilt it. After eight doses, it was done."

"You didn't use an aging potion in the mix? You do not appear fourteen to me."

Harry blinked, surprised by the comment but quickly swallowed his surprise. "Er... thanks? Uh – my Lord."

Voldemort scoffed, but it sounded remarkably similar to a snort. "When did you do all this? If it was too recently and any of the potion remains in your system, it could complicate the ritual."

"Oh, I finished my last dose nearly two months ago. It shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. As to answer your earlier question, you must carve the runes into your own flesh, except for the ones on your back, which _I _will do."

"Oh," Harry said as he blinked and took this in. "Alright," Harry said with a quick breath and then a determined nod.

He returned his focus to the parchment and read it through again, paying attention to each of the symbols and where, exactly they would need to be carved into his flesh. He was glad there weren't too many of them. It could have been a lot worse. From what he could tell, the whole 'him carving runes into his flesh'-bit was the _alternative_ to a much simpler ritual that would require Harry's entire body be sacrificed and bled dry. The pain would be unpleasant, but it was preferable to being dead.

"I do appreciate you opting to go with this version, over the one where I would have been a live sacrifice," Harry said as he continued to read.

"Yes, well the amount of extra effort on my part is very minimal, and your potential future usefulness outweighed it enough that I chose this path instead."

"Like I said. Much appreciated," Harry said, glancing up and smirking.

Voldemort rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"When you feel ready, we will begin," Voldemort said in a dismissive tone as he levitated several objects from the floor behind him and began to move towards the cauldron in the center of the room.

Harry refocused on the parchment and reached over to pick up the dagger. He balanced it in his palm for a moment before grasping it, blade facing towards him, and practiced different grips for holding it.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself and began to walk towards the circle.

He passed by Barty, who was now standing towards the outside the outermost circle, not far from Wormtail who had apparently finished his task, and was now cowering in the shadows. Barty appeared to actually be mildly impressed with Harry and was watching him with an air of intrigue.

"You will stand here," Voldemort, pointing to a spot on the floor where the runes and circles came to a certain formation. "You have ten minutes to complete the runes before we can move on to the next part. If you do not complete it in ten minutes, we will have to heal the woulds and start over. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, but at the glaring red eyes he quickly spoke, "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort smirked and nodded in approval.

"Once you have completed the runes on your front, hand the dagger to me and I will complete the two on your back. Begin when ready."

Harry shook his head again, took another calming breath and spent a few minutes practicing the movements necessary to carve the shapes into each of the specified spots. When to shift the dagger into different grips when he moved onto a different location, and then practiced holding it in his left hand and traced where he would carve for the rune he would need to carve into his right bicep. Once he felt comfortable with what exactly he had to do and in what order, he began.

– –


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Harry's shaking hand stretched out and offered the bloodied dagger to the small skeletal grip of the Dark Lord.

"On your knees, Potter," the cold hard voice of Voldemort ordered.

Harry instantly acquiesced to the order, and had to bite his lip to hold back the whimper from the pain the movement caused. It really wasn't anywhere even remotely as painful as the accellerant potion had been, and as Voldemort had watched the entire process of Harry carving into his own flesh, the Dark Lord's excitement had grown. With that excitement, had come a powerful welling of Voldemort's magic, and Harry had eagerly fed off that energy, letting the euphoria of it cloud his mind and dull his pain. Still, the sudden movement of falling to his knees had cleared his haze enough to remember that he was currently bleeding – _a lot – _and that the raw, open wounds were not pleasant in any way.

Harry felt the Dark Lord's magic surge in another wave of eager excitement and he grabbed hold of that feeling and wrapped it around himself like a blanket. The feeling of the Dark Lord's magic was so indescribably familiar and comfortable, not to mention the dark inebriation it induced. He wondered for a moment how Barty and Wormtail didn't seem to be effected by it at all. Did they not feel it? Maybe they couldn't?

A tiny startled noise escaped Harry's throat when the blade first pierced his back, between his shoulder blades, but he managed to squash any further sound. It hurt, but he wasn't going to disgrace himself by crying out. The cuts were shallow and the runes were not all the complicated. What little understanding he had gleaned about dark ritualistic magic like this told him that things should have been much more convoluted and complicated than they were. The relative simplicity of the ritual was truly a comment on just how much of a magical genius the Dark Lord was.

The arithmancy calculations and planning alone that would have been necessary to construct a ritual this optimized and efficient was incredible, and the fact that the Dark Lord had done it in under a week, truly spoke volumes. Harry was mildly surprised that the man had gone to so much trouble to minimize the suffering Harry was having to endure. A little less effort would have resulted in much more complicated runes, and a lot more of them, but the effect on the end product of the ceremony would have been unchanged. Voldemort's body would have been resurrected the same either way. The extra effort had gone in solely and entirely for Harry's benefit, and he knew it.

Still... he wasn't stupid enough to say anything about it aloud when others were present. Perhaps if he had the opportunity to speak to the Dark Lord without an audience he would thank him.

Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he felt the last rune completed and the blade leave his skin for the last time.

He was now kneeling in a mess of his own blood. Not quite a pool of blood, but it was still a considerable amount of blood. He also noticed that all of the blood seemed to be magically drawn to a spot two feet in front of him where a crystal bowl sat on top of one of the runes on the floor. He supposed that was why he wasn't sitting in a pool of his own blood – the blood was being drawn to that point and getting magicked into the bowl. He decided that, if nothing else, he could slip into the hospital wing when he got back to school and nick a blood replenishment potion. Hopefully Madam Pomfrey would have some in stock.

Harry's mind was clouded by the combined forces of his loss of blood, light-headedness, and pain, and then all of that was compounded by his own intentional hold on the Dark Lord's magic in the air. Letting the magic wrap around and encase him helped numb the pain, but it also left him rather out of it. He could feel his body swaying precariously while he knelt on the floor in front of the large cauldron.

He was vaguely aware of some magical words being spoken, and of Wormtail dropping a few things into the cauldron, including the bowl of his blood. Next thing he knew the Dark Lord's magic suddenly pulled back and its absence snapped his mind to attention. Harry's head shot straight up and his eyes opened wide. He watched as Wormtail cut off his own hand, dropped it into the potion with a strangled whimper, and then as Barty carried the Dark Lord's tiny homunculus body into the circle, over the cauldron, and then _dropped him inside it._

The sudden and intense surge of magical energy was enough that it nearly knocked Harry out. As it was, it took almost all of his strength and concentration to stay upright on his knees.

The cauldron frothed and bubbled violently while plumes of steam and swirling colored smoke shot out from the top of it. Then the cauldron itself was melting away as if it were made of chocolate, until it was a dark liquid pool that bubbled and vanished on the ground a moment later. Rising from where the cauldron and it's contents had been was a twisted pale form that looked mildly humanoid as it grew and expanded and jerked rather violently.

Harry could feel the Dark Lord's magic swirling powerfully around the new vessel as it continued to form and morph. Slowly, it began to look more and more human. The body filled out and grew defined. The limbs reached the proper lengths as the bones grew to their correct sizes and stopped bending and twisted into place. The muscle groups and tendons formed properly and the skin stretched and came to rest along it in a smooth, flawless surface.

The tone started out whitish and pale, as the homunculus had been, but as the body began to look more and more human, the white-gray pallor began to pinken and turned to a more natural flesh tone. The face grew to the proper size of a human skull, but it was gradually loosing the serpentine quality that the smaller incarnation had suffered from. The cheekbones sharpened and the nose grew from the flat plane where there had once only been two slits for nostrils. The eyes remained closed, but above them where once there had been a hairless plane, grew in two black, shapely eyebrows. Equally black hair began to sprout from the scalp and lengthen. It continued to grow, very slowly, while the rest of the body finished forming.

When all of the smoke and steam and melted cauldron had settled, there, standing directly before Harry, was a very naked, and very impressive looking man. Harry felt his breath catch as he took in the sight before him before he quickly diverted his eyes.

Barty was hurrying forward now with an elegant black robe with silver embroidered trim. The man-Voldemort, reached out an arm and allowed Barty to slip it over his shoulder, and then maneuvered around to slip it around Voldemort's other arm. Voldemort completed wrapping himself up loosely in the robe and took a few steps forward, clearing himself of the mess that remained where he and the cauldron had been only moments before.

Barty quickly took several steps back before falling to one knee and bowing his head reverently. Harry could see enough of the man's face to see the wide, insane smile that graced Barty's face, and suddenly realized he was sporting much the same look, despite his light-headedness and pain.

He looked back up at the Dark Lord who he had just helped to resurrect. It was not what he had been expecting; not with the serpentine quality that his homunculus had featured so strongly. This man looked... like a man. Human. A lean, lithe body, lightly muscled with long shapely limbs, a slender neck and a striking face. Harry realized that he could see the same features that he had seen on the shade of a 16-year old Tom Riddle, from his second year; now aged to adulthood.

What stood before him was a tall, powerful, and if Harry was being honest with himself, incredibly _attractive_ man. He appeared to be no older than thirty, although he could probably pass for a bit younger – which again, Harry was quite startled by. His lips were thin, his nose was long and refined, but rounded a bit on the end. His eyes were the same piercing ruby red slits that Harry had become accustomed to, and he found himself glad that they hadn't changed to something more _human_ with the rest of him.

His hair was a bit of a mess, but Harry suspected the man would waste no time in trimming it and cleaning himself up. It looked like it hadn't all grown in at the same rate, so it was rather uneven in some parts. The longest it got was just above shoulder length, and it had a gentle wave to it.

Harry watched, transfixed, as a hand, with long slender fingers came up and ran through the hair, pushing it back behind his ear. The man grinned. _Voldemort_ grinned. Harry found himself smiling again. This man was his new Lord. This beautiful, powerful, man...

"Wormtail – my wand," the man spoke and the voice startled Harry. It was deeper than he had expected. Smooth yet whispery. Like warm melted chocolate.

Wormtail was still cradling his handless arm and he whimpered and cowered as he quickly shuffled forward and pulled out Voldemort's wand and handed it over.

Voldemort smiled mildly at him and then turned away, and took two steps until he was standing directly before Harry and looking down on him. Harry's breath caught as he looked up at the other man. He could feel tremendous waves of magic radiating from him, and it was intoxicating. Part of Harry wanted to close his eyes, fall back onto the floor, and just fall asleep while basking in the feel of the magic washing over him like waves. But he held himself together and kept his eyes open.

Voldemort brought his wand down and pointed it directly at him. Harry didn't feel the slightest bit of apprehension at the sight, and simply waited. Whatever spell it was that Voldemort cast, it was non-verbal, so Harry never heard it. But he felt the magic focus through the wand and then assault him in a powerful rush that seemed to course through his entire body, and dance across his skin.

He gasped at the intensity and felt himself waver from side to side before he managed to regain control of his balance.

A small keening sound escaped his throat, but he made no other noise while the magic did it's work. When it did finally leave him, he suddenly found that all of the burning, stinging, pain, that had been dancing at the back of his consciousness, was now gone. He glanced down at his bare chest to find the skin there unmarred. He looked to his right bicep and found it equally lacking any evidence of the rune he had carved into it, earlier that hour. He was even clean now. The blood had been removed from his skin, and his pants were no longer stained with it.

He looked back up and smiled. "Thank you, my Lord," Harry breathed.

The corner of Voldemort's mouth turned up slightly and he gave a curt nod. He then turned his attention on Wormtail and asked for his arm. A moment later, Wormtail's missing hand had been replaced with a chrome-finished hand that apparently worked just as good as the old one had. Wormtail cowered and bowed, and sniveled while profusely thanking his master.

Barty seemed disgusted by the Wormtail's sniveling, but his face instantly turned awed reverence when he looked upon Voldemort.

"Will you be summoning the others tonight, my Lord?" Barty asked as he bowed his head.

"Not tonight, Barty. In light of recent events, I have decided to rework some of my plans and wish to complete a few tasks before calling my followers back to me," Voldemort said easily as he began to stride out of the ritual circle and towards the doors that Harry had come in through. "Return Potter's wand to him, Barty."

"Yes, my Lord," Barty said as he quickly reached into the pocket where he had stored Harry's wand.

"Potter, collect your things and come with me," Voldemort said without even bothering to look back.

Harry blinked in surprise and quickly stood to his feet. He staggered a bit and felt a rush of dizziness. He shook himself, trying to sort himself out, but was pretty sure that even though he'd been healed, he was still probably pretty low on blood.

"Ah yes. Wormtail, I believe I told you to have a blood restorative ready?" Voldemort said as he collected a pile of parchment from the side table.

Wormtail squeaked and fumbled into his pocket for a moment before pulling out a vial and making his way towards the still unsteady Harry. Barty was now standing beside him, offering Harry his wand. Harry quickly grabbed both offered items, slipped his wand into the back pocket of his pants, uncorked the bottle and downed the potion in a single quick movement. He handed the empty bottle back to Wormtail, trying not to glare at the man too much.

He nodded his head at Barty and offered the other man a grin, which he returned. It was a strange sense of camaraderie, that he felt with this man who had been masquerading as his teacher all year. The intense suspicion that had always filled Barty's eyes, or rather, 'Moody's' eye, seemed to have disappeared now, replaced by respect.

"Thanks," Harry said quickly to Barty before turning and jogging to the side of the room where he had left his folded shirt and robe. Voldemort seemed to have collected his things now and was waiting impatiently by the door. As soon as Harry had picked up the bundle, the Dark Lord was turning and walking out into the hall.

Seeing that he didn't have time to put the clothes back on, he simply darted after the other man, carrying the bundle under his arm. He caught up quickly, but had to walk fast to keep up with the other man's long confident strides.

Harry followed in silence as Voldemort went down several corridors, back to the entry hall, up the stairs to the second floor, and then directly towards the study that Harry remembered clearly from his visions.

Upon entering the room, Voldemort walked over to a large wooden desk, pulled out his wand, and summoned an ornately carved and finely upholstered wooden and leather chair that had been shoved towards the back of the room against the wall, and placed it directly behind the desk. He smirked down at it with a look of triumph on his face. Harry had a feeling the man was gloating to himself that he could now make use of the chair, rather than relying on the tiny floating seat he had been using prior to the resurrection of his proper body.

"Sit," Voldemort said dismissively as he flicked his wand again, and another chair zoomed across the floor from where it had been shoved up against the wall in a corner somewhere. It came to rest directly opposite the desk and the seat that Voldemort himself was now sitting down in.

Harry quickly made his way over to the offered chair and sat while he shifted his bundle of clothes onto his lap. Before anything else, he shifted and unwrapped his robes until he found the inner pocket where he had placed his shrunken trunk and pulled it out.

"I brought more books," Harry said as he did all this and he glanced over just in time to see the lights of interest flicker in the other man's eyes. He grinned and bent over to place the trunk on the floor in front of him. He reached behind him and pulled his wand free of his back pocket. He tapped the trunk simply and it instantly expanded.

Harry glanced up then, silently asking for permission before opening it. Voldemort smirked and nodded his head while giving a tiny wave of his fingers in approval.

A moment later and Harry had hissed the password, opened his third compartment, and had begun pulling out more books. As he worked, Voldemort sat back in his chair and ran his long fingers over the carved wooden armrests and the soft fabric tops and another small triumphant look crossed his face.

Harry glanced up and smirked. "I can't even imagine how much of a relief that must be... finally having a proper body back," Harry said before ducking his head and continuing to pull out books.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly and rose an eyebrow at him, making Harry wonder if he should have just kept his mouth shut. After all, it was still entirely within reason for Voldemort to blame _him_ for the loss of his last body.

Part of him wanted to apologize for the loss of the Dark Lord's last body, but he refused to let himself do that because it would be admitting fault, and Harry was still convinced that whatever had resulted in the Dark Lord's last fall, was in no way directly caused by his fifteen month old self. His mum, perhaps, but he could find no logical, fathomable excuse as to how _he_ could have done it.

Unless he had been born with some inexplicable resistance to the killing curse. While that would be exceedingly handy, Harry had no intention of testing out that theory, only to be proved _wrong..._ and end up dead.

"You've brought me quite a lot of books," Voldemort mused as he watched Harry continue to pull them out.

Harry grinned up at him. "I've been busy. I've gotten really quick at copying books, actually. It was really slow in the beginning, but I think I've got it down to a science now. Goes real fast. I've been trying to copy every book in Slytherin's study that looks strong enough to survive the spell. The real fragile and crumbly ones would take more effort, and I'm afraid I might damage them in the process."

"I can show you a variation on the spell that I used to restore the ones I worked on."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Really? That would be great. I saw the big pile that looked like they'd been worked on. I figured you probably did that when you were at Hogwarts fifty years ago, but didn't know how exactly you did it. I tried looking up some spells, but the books all seemed too delicate and I was afraid I would just screw them up."

"It is not a complicated spell. I'm sure you can manage just fine. I believe that you were also hoping to learn the way to prevent someone from casting the _affinitatem reveleo_ spell on you?"

Harry blinked once in confusion before his mind went over the name of the spell and realized that it was pretty obvious what it probably was. "The spell that will tell someone that my magic is Dark?" Harry asked, and Voldemort nodded. "Yes, that would definitely be something I should learn."

"Yes it probably is. The counter to it has two levels of proficiency. The first will simply nullify the spell and return no response at all, however with practice, you can cause the spell to return a false response of your choosing. It is more difficult, but would it would probably be best if you learned to do it, since getting no response from the spell will likely make whoever cast it, suspicious."

Harry nodded.

"We can go over these things, and a few other matters I wish to discuss the next time you come. Until then, I have a task for you."

Harry's eyes lit up and he sat up straighter. "Yes?" he asked with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

"All of the books you have brought me so far were all lost to me after my sixth year. By that time, Dumbledore had managed to speak with the ghost of a certain person and began to suspect that whatever it was that I was up to, it was connected with the girls bathroom on the second floor. I had very few opportunities after that point to go down there.

"At the end of each school year, Dumbledore would always come up with some subtle excuse to have my things searched," Voldemort continued, making a sneering face. "Because of this, I was forced to find an alternative location to... _hide _certain objects. Even at the end of my seventh year, I was still being watched annoyingly closely and was forced to leave behind a great deal of my possessions. I would like for you to retrieve them for me."

"Alright," Harry said eagerly.

"Most of these objects are in fact _objects_, however some are books. You are _not_ to make copies of the books for yourself before hand."

Voldemort could see a flicker of disappointment flash through Harry's eyes for a moment, but Harry quickly nodded. "That's fine. Where do I find these things?"

"There is a magical room that you can access from the seventh floor corridor. The room only appears when properly summoned. There is a tapestry of a wizard that is trying to teach a group of trolls in tutus how to dance ballet," Voldemort made a disgusted face and rolled his eyes before continuing. "Walk past the wall opposite the tapestry three times while repeating in your mind, '_I need the room where things are hidden'. _After the third pass, the door will appear."

Harry's eyes went wide and he grinned. "That's brilliant. How'd you find something like that?"

"I will admit that it was something of a fluke. Knowledge of the room seemed to have been lost to all else and I could only find one document that made reference to it. The room was considered 'legendary' and as such, assumed to not exist," he smirked and made a scoffing noise. "It is referred to as the Room of Requirement. Anyway, when you enter the room it will likely look like a giant junk heap. The room is quite vast and it would seem to be very easy to loose track of things inside it. The items I hid there are all contained within a single box with a space expansion charm on it and it is locked. However my magical signature is likely still on the box and it is entirely possible that if you remove it from the box the school's wards will detect it. You will need to extract the objects from the box and put them in your trunk. The password is parseltongue. A simple _open_ will do the trick.

"To locate the box, enter the room, immediately turn left and follow the wall until you reach the corner. Look for a very large, broken, marble statue. The box is dark green. It may take some digging to find it."

Harry nodded his head. "Okay. Is there any chance that a simple '_accio Tom Riddle's box'_ might work, or do I need to actually go searching through the junk to find it?"

Voldemort stiffened and Harry felt the magic in the room grow cold and still. Harry instantly knew he must have made a mistake.

"How... do you know _that name?_" the man hissed as he looked up at Harry through narrowed eyes.

Harry swallowed a thick lump in his throat.

"Was it the old man? Is he going around telling people _that name?_" Voldemort said, and spat the last two words like they were filthy.

Harry's mouth floundered for a second before he took a deep breath and tried to regain his courage.

"Actually... _you_ sort of told it to me."

Voldemort sat up and eyed Harry through narrowed eyes. "One of those instances where you were in my head? I seriously doubt that to be the case, since I have not even _thought_ that name, even to myself, in quite a while."

"Er, no. Not exactly. It was in my second year. I sort of spoke with your um... 16-year old self on two separate occasions. There was this old magical artifact that found its way into the school. It possessed a girl and she opened the Chamber of Secrets and let the basilisk out. That was the year I discovered the chamber and –"

"_HOW!"_

"Huh?"

"How did the diary get to the school!" Voldemort yelled and the powerful anger in the magic was swirling all around the pair of them like a hurricane. Although it was apparently invisible to all the world except Harry, who seemed inexplicably tuned into it. He visibly shivered, and yet it was a _good_ kind of shiver, as the powerful dark anger blew through him.

He took a deep breath, pulling himself back together.

"Uh.. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy did it. He – He was trying to ruin Arthur Weasley, and stop this bill Mr. Weasley was sponsoring. It was a _muggle_ protection act or something, and it was gaining ground in the Wizengamot. Lucius figured if he managed to cause some horrible incident at Hogwarts and connect Weasley's name to it, it would ruin him and stop the bill. So he slipped the diary into the cauldron of Weasley's daughter, Ginny, while they were shopping in Flourish and Blott's the summer before school started. She started writing in it and ended up possessed. At one point, she got scared and started to suspect that she was the one causing students to get petrified so she tossed the diary into a toilet. I found it..."

Voldemort's anger seemed to be simmering now and he sat back in his chair, giving Harry a curious look. "Did you now? What happened when you found it?"

"Well... I wrote in it. But only once. You... or.. you're younger self, I suppose? He wrote back. He told me his name was Tom Riddle, but at that time I had no idea that he was _you_. Then he sucked me into the diary, almost like a pensieve memory. I watched the memory of you finding Hagrid with his acromantula and accusing him of having set the creature on the students on accident. The whole thing was just to lead me down the wrong trail, of course. Anyway, I kept the book in my trunk, but sometime later, Ginny heard me and my er... _friends_ talking about it and she panicked when she realized that _I_ had it, and that you might reveal all her secrets to me. Oh, she had a crush on me, and she had apparently been writing about that a lot in the diary. Um... long story short, she broke into my dorm, ransacked my stuff, and stole it back. End of the school year, the diary possessed her enough to lure her down into the Chamber alone and tried to drain her of all her magic so that the shade could gain corporeal form."

"What happened then?" Voldemort said, his face growing harder. Harry swallowed and then sighed.

"Er... nothing good. I mean... well, _I was twelve!" _Harry exclaimed defensively, all of a sudden. "I was still the very definition of a good Gryffindor. You know... hero complex and all. Ginny was my best mate's sister, and I figured out where the entrance to the Chamber was and that I – as a parselmouth – was the only one who could go down and save her. So I did. I didn't realize that _Tom Riddle_ was behind it, or that Tom Riddle was _you_ until I got down there and found this sort of non-corporeal version of him _standing there_ in the chamber, over Ginny's unconscious body. After a bit of banter, he showed me the way his... er, _your_ full name was mixed around to become the anagram I am Lord Voldemort. It was after that that I had to kill the basilisk, while trying to save Ginny, and escape."

"You, _as a twelve year old,_ really killed the basilisk! _How!"_ Voldemort hissed, with far more curiosity and disbelief than the anger he had shown only a moment earlier.

"A sword, actually. The basilisk bit my arm, and I had the sword in my hand. The blade went straight through the upper pallet of it's mouth and through it's brain. One of it's fangs went right into my upper arm, though, and broke off."

"The basilisk bit you?"

"Yeah... the sixteen-year old shade of your younger self was almost corporeal at that moment and he was basically just standing there and mocking me while I slowly died. I figured, if I was going to die, I was going to take him with me, so I pulled the fang out of my arm and stabbed the diary with it."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned with anger.

"Basilisk venom. How ironic..."

"Huh?"

"There are extremely few things that can destroy what that artifact was..."

Harry hung his head. "I... I apologize... I'm sure it was an important artifact to you. I mean... I'm not sorry I didn't end up dead, but in retrospect, if I could have gotten out of there alive without destroying the book, I would now. At the time I was rather desperate though, since they were threatening to close the school if the attacks didn't stop. If Hogwarts closed... well, I'd have to go back to those _muggles_ for good and... yeah. I was desperate. I'm sorry."

Voldemort was deathly silent for a long moment and Harry could feel the icy anger of his magic floating through the air like a deadly mist. Suddenly it began to dissipate and Voldemort actually _sighed._ Harry looked up and blinked, in surprise.

"I will not direct all of my anger towards you. You were a young, ignorant child, and you had no idea of what it was you were doing. _Lucius,_ however, knew entirely too well how important that item was to me and will learn how serious of an infraction he has committed," Voldemort finished with an angry hiss and his ruby red eyes glowed in anger.

"So... how is it that you are not dead?" Voldemort asked flatly after a moment.

"Hm?"

"The basilisk. It bit you. Why aren't you dead?"

"Oh! That."

Voldemort rolled his red eyes and waved his hand for Harry to continue.

"Right... well, Dumbledore's phoenix flew down there and it cried it's tears onto the wound and healed it."

"Dumbledore's bird? That's curious..."

"Is it?"

"Why would it suddenly appear down in the chamber? How would it know to find you there? For that matter, how would it even get in?"

"Well, when I went down into the chamber, I didn't close the door behind me. Didn't think to, honestly. Afterwards, Dumbledore said that I had to have shown true loyalty to him to have called Fawkes to me," Harry mumbled, feeling entirely idiotic for ever having been so loyal to such a lying, manipulative old bastard.

"I doubt that. It is far more likely that the old fool sent the bird after you. I suspected for a long time that Dumbledore had not only figured out where the entrance to the chamber was, but had a pretty good idea that Slytherin's creature was a basilisk. He had no proof, of course, and had no way of getting down there himself without a parseltongue to open the way."

Harry sat up straighter and felt renewed anger boiling inside him. "So you're saying he knew I was down there. He let me go down there and _battle a fifty-foot basilisk_, alone, knowing it was going to happen, and the only assistance he lent me was his filthy _bird_? I didn't close the entrance so if he seriously knew I was down there, he could have come down after me..."

"He led you to come down after me to get the stone in first year, did he not? He has allowed you to stay in this ridiculous tournament, knowing that it was most likely a plot to kill you; has he not? Honestly, I am often unsure if he is perhaps _trying_ to get you killed, but that just doesn't make any sense..."

Harry clenched his fists and teeth as he boiled in his own rage. "We need to know what that damn prophecy says," he growled out.

Voldemort's head flew up and he looked at Harry with surprise for a moment before it shifted to curiosity. "You know of the prophecy?"

"Only _of it_. I don't know any of what it says. My er... _companion_ told me that even you don't know the whole thing."

"It spoke to you of the prophecy?" Voldemort said, and he scowled a bit for reasons Harry was unsure of.

"Only after I asked him about it. I remembered you _thinking_ about it, during a few of my visions. I asked him if he knew what the prophecy said and he said that he only retained impressions of knowledge from you, but not always specifics. He knew _of_ the prophecy, but not the exact wording of it. He also knew that even you did not have the entire thing."

Voldemort looked both thoughtful and irritated for a few long minutes.

"You are to never tell anyone else of the prophecy's existence," he said finally, in short, clipped tones.

"Of course," Harry said instantly. "Not like I can tell anyone anything though, since I don't even know what it says." Harry grumbled under his breath and ran his hand through his messy hair, feeling rather frustrated. "Look..." he began after a long moment, "If you don't want to tell me what it says, then I certainly can't make you, but I'll still ask, at least this once. Can you tell me anything about it? I mean... it is basically the reason my entire life has been one giant crazy mess. Some prophecy, made by some unnamed seer, basically set the most powerful Dark Lord in half a millennium after me, and then resulted in the craziest, most manipulative old bastard alive, to target me and make my life a living hell. I would _really_ like to know what the hell brought all of this down on my head."

Voldemort eyed Harry with cold, calculating eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment before the corner of his mouth turned up the slightest bit in amusement.

"Alright Potter. The prophecy was not made by some _nameless_ seer, but non other than the pathetic excuse for a divination teacher, currently stationed at your school."

"Trelawney!" Harry shrieked and nearly choked on his own shock. "That batty old loon! But she's a total fraud! You cannot seriously mean that my whole life has been fucked to hell and back because of _HER!_"

Voldemort actually _cackled_ at this point and looked decidedly amused as he propped his left elbow on the armrest, and rested his hand in his long curling fingers. "Yes, _her._ But apparently, this was one of her exceedingly few _real_ prophecies."

"Are you _sure_? I mean, she prophesizes my death every week in class. It's like clockwork. Every week she has some new and creative way in which I'm going to die a horrible nasty death. What if the whole thing is bull? What if there really is no prophecy?"

"I have seen the memory of my spy who witnessed it being prophesied. I am sure that it was authentic, Potter. I would not still be seeking it, or paying it any attention, if I had my doubts about whether or not it was legitimate."

Harry expelled a great breath of air and fell back into his chair. He sat there for a long second, processing the mindblowing idea that _bloody Trelawney_ had been the one who made the prophecy, when a memory flickered in the back of his mind.

"Her second true prophecy..." Harry whispered and Voldemort looked at him curiously.

"Pardon?"

"Dumbledore told me once..." Harry hesitated and then looked up, meeting the Dark Lord's eyes. "At the end of 3rd year, just before I found out about Wormtail and my godfather, I was in the Divination classroom, a bit after class and Trelawney suddenly went into a sort of _trance._ She said something like '_the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was.' _I didn't know what to make of it at the time, but then, that night, everything with Wormtail was revealed, and he escaped. I told Dumbledore about what Trelawney said and he told me that it was probably her second _real_ prophecy. Bloody hell! Why didn't I ever ask what the _first_ one was? I had the perfect opportunity..." Harry paused and then scowled. "Not that he would have actually told me, of course."

Voldemort snorted. "Of course he wouldn't have. That old man holds onto his secrets with all his strength," he paused and looked at the scowling boy opposite him and smirked. "Well, would you like to hear what of it I _do_ know?"

Harry's head jerked up and his eyes were wide and suddenly filled with hope and excitement. "Yes! Please, my Lord."

Voldemort's smirk widened. "Fine. The Death Eater who overhead the prophecy was there for the majority of the meeting the two had – it was apparently a job interview for the Divination position. About half way through, Trelawney went into a _trance_ and said '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._ '. At that point, the innkeeper of the Hogshead interrupted my spy, and prevented him from hearing whatever came after."

Harry looked deeply focused at this point. "Can you say it again?" he asked, without really looking back up at the Dark Lord.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._ " Voldemort repeated with a bored air of disinterest.

Harry nodded his head slowly and finally looked back up, making eye contact. "So as far as we know, it never actually says anything about me being the one who 'vanquishes' you, simply that I supposedly have the power to do so... which really doesn't make sense. In reality, it's more like, I have the power to prevent anyone else from 'vanquishing' you... Or perhaps you already invalidated the prophecy, by coming after me? Like, maybe at some point in the distant future I could have grown strong enough to 'vanquish you', but by you interfering when I was a baby, and getting a piece of your soul lodged in me, you've made the prophecy null. Or maybe prophecies don't even work that way... I really don't understand this seer shite nearly enough. I _hate_ divination," Harry grumbled and scowled.

"There _has_ to be something more significant to the prophecy," he continued. "More that might explain some things if we knew the whole prophecy. It really doesn't make sense from just that... Was I really the only child born at the end of July who had parents who had er... thrice defied you?"

"There was one other."

Harry sat straighter as curiosity took over. "There was?"

"Yes. The Longbottom's had thrice defied me, and also had a son born at the end of July. _You_ were born on the 31st, while he was born on the 30th."

"Neville!" Harry choked. "Bloody hell!" he gasped and then laughed. "Wow... now that's hard to imagine. I can't fathom Neville Longbottom vanquishing _anyone, _least of all _you._" Harry shook his head and chuckled.

"Yes..." Voldemort drawled.

Harry sighed and looked deep in thought again. "So the only people who know about the prophecy at all, as far as we know, is you, me, Dumbledore, your spy, and Trelawney – but the only ones we know who know the _full_ prophecy are Dumbledore and Trelawney?"

"It is unlikely that Trelawney actually _knows_ it. My understanding is that she is somehow completely ignorant of her own prophetic visions."

"Ah. Yes. She was that way after that prophecy about Wormtail... Once she came out of her trance, she had no idea that she had said anything odd." Harry paused again for a moment before speaking. "Do you think it might still be in her _sub-conscious_, even if she isn't consciously aware of it?"

Voldemort's brows rose slightly and he sat forward. "That seems plausible."

"Do you think Trelawney knows occlumency? I mean... she's such an idiot, I don't see her as having the propensity for it..."

"Are you suggesting that someone use legilimency on her? I only have a few followers capable of such a thing, none of them currently aware of my return, and none of them in a proper position to use the technique against her. There is, theoretically one, however I am unsure as to his allegiances at the moment and am not yet willing to expose myself to him."

"I could do it," Harry said eagerly. "Use legilimency against Trelawney, I mean. And I'm in her class every week, so I get loads of opportunities. She's always focused on me, and _frequently_ stares right at me to try and make her _predictions_ seem that much more ominous."

"You? _You_ can perform legilimency?" Voldemort asked with an amused air of disbelief.

"Yeah. I mean, when I started doing it in the fall, I had no idea what it was even called, I just sort of _did it._"

"You just sort of _did_ one of the most advanced and complicated forms of mind magic?" Voldemort echoed with sarcastic disbelief.

Harry blinked. "Erm... yes? It was one of those things that I kind of just _knew_ how to do one morning when I woke up. It was like the morning that I woke up and just _knew_ that certain breeds of dragons could understand parseltongue. I had a problem, and was stressing over how to find a solution to it, and... I think I spent that night sort of bemoaning my problems to my c-companion... and uh... well, in retrospect, he probably gave me the knowledge as a solution."

"It _gave_ you the knowledge?" Voldemort repeated incredulously. "A piece of my soul just _gave_ you the knowledge of how to use legilimency?"

"I think it was more of a really solid foundation, and an understanding of how it was theoretically supposed to work. It took several tries for me to really get the hang of just what to do and how to do it."

"Has it just _given_ you any other bits of knowledge like that?" Voldemort asked, incredulously.

Harry twisted up his face as he thought it over. Had it? He really wasn't sure...

"I think he put the idea into my head to go back down to the chamber when I was trying to come up with somewhere private that no one else could get to. I just sort of woke up one morning knowing that it would be the perfect place for me to go to endure the hells of the accellerant potion. I'm pretty sure that he also 'inspired' me to explore the chamber further to see if there was more to it than just the anti-chamber where the basilisk corpse was. However, at the same time, I don't think he told me_ where_ the entrance to Slytherin's study was, I found that on my own."

"That is not the same thing as having given you the ability to use an extraordinarily complex bit of magic," Voldemort pointed out airily.

Harry shrugged, "No, but it was the only other instance I could really come up with of my having just _known_ something that I shouldn't have. I wonder though, if maybe me having such an easy time with the legilimency might be another part of that magical power I gained through my connection with you. You know, like how I can perform parselmagic, even though there's no history of it in the Potter line."

"I suppose that is plausible... how good are you at it?"

"Parselmagic?"

"No, fool. Legilimency."

"Oh, right. Well... I think I'm pretty good at it. I've used it on several students, and a bit on Professor McGonagall."

"You used legilimency on McGonagall?" Voldemort asked with an air of surprise mixed with amusement.

"Yeah, I wanted to test it out. I only scanned surface thoughts with her because I didn't know if she'd be able to sense it or not. When I used legilimency on Viktor Krum, he seemed to sense that something was _off_, but didn't quite know what it was."

"Krum? Isn't he the champion from Durmstrang?"

"That's right."

"Hmm... it is not terribly surprising that he would notice, and others wouldn't. They don't shy away from teaching the dark arts at Durmstrang, so he has probably been exposed to some mind magics during his education." Voldemort seemed to contemplate something for a moment before refocusing on Harry. "I highly doubt that _Trelawney_ of all people would even be capable of mastering occlumency, even if she tried. However, despite her lack of mental shields, the information may be buried deeply in her subconscious. It may not be a simple matter to find it. More specifically, it may take you quite a bit of time to search for it."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Well... I'll look for an opportunity to discreetly go digging around in her head. See if I can come up with anything. If an opportunity presents itself, I'll slip in and take a look around. If it doesn't... perhaps I'll find a way to _make_ an opportunity present itself. At least I'm in her class, so if I go pay her a visit, no one will question me doing it."

"Good Potter. Do that. Also, before you leave tonight, I have one more thing to give you," he said as he reached forward and pulled a drawer out of the desk. Harry straightened his back and waited, wondering what it could be.

A moment later, Voldemort retracted his hand with something clasped in it. He stood and Harry instantly stood as well. This action caused the bundle of shirt and robes in his lap to fall to the floor, thus reminding him that he hadn't actually put his shirt back on the entire time he was sitting there. He suddenly felt a little stupid and very exposed.

His embarrassment was pushed to the side as the Dark Lord came to stand directly in front of him and held out his hand, presenting Harry with what looked like leather cuff, with loose leather strips for tying it closed.

Harry blinked at it in mild confusion.

"You cannot be marked. Not yet, at least. There is too great a risk of exposure, and keeping your allegiance to me secret is of great importance," Voldemort began to say in response to the confused look on Harry's face. Voldemort brought his wand hand up and tapped the leather cuff while saying "_morsmordre"_. A small version of his mark; the skull with the snake coming out of it's mouth – appeared as if it had been branded into the leather all along.

"Wear it. It will warm up whenever I use the mark to summon my Death Eaters. I can also use it to summon you specifically, and it will also serve as a portkey that will send you directly to my entry hall."

Harry's face lit up with excited understanding as he reached out and was handed the leather cuff. "Brilliant..." he whispered, reverently. "How do I activate the portkey?"

"Parseltongue," Voldemort said dismissively. "Simply say _§morsmordre§_ while holding it and it will activate. Speaking the word in English will make the mark appear or disappear. Speak it in parseltongue and it will activate the portkey. Obviously, you should keep the mark cleared when at school."

Harry nodded his head to show that he understood. It was strange hearing another person slip in and out of parseltongue so easily, but Harry realized he could actually _tell_ the difference between the two now. Even though the switch had been subtle. Parseltongue still _sounded_ like English to him, it just had an extra something to it... as well as sounding sort in innately hissy.

Harry quickly began to attach the cuff to his left arm. When he went to tie the loose leather pieces, they actually tied themselves to the perfect tightness and he grinned. Once it was properly in place he looked up at Voldemort and smiled. "Thank you, my Lord."

The corner of Voldemort's mouth pulled up and Harry could see the pleased approval reach the man's eyes.

"You may get dressed," Voldemort said dismissively and Harry felt his cheeks warm up and he quickly grabbed his button-down shirt and slipped it on. "I want you to inform me immediately if you have one of these _visions_ of yours. I want to see if I can detect when you are in my mind."

"Yes, of course," Harry said as he finished up the last of the buttons and began to slip his robes on.

"You may visit the library now. I need to speak with Barty, but you will need to use his portkey to return to the castle. I will send him to fetch you there once he and I are done."

Harry nodded his head and bent down to tap his wand on his trunk and shrink it back down. He snatched it up, slipped it into his inner pocket and did a quick bow. "Sounds fine. I can wait however long you need. Um... one more question though."

"Yesss?" Voldemort drawled while raising a single brow.

"Er... when is it okay for me to come via the portkey, and when is it not? I... I don't want to show up uninvited and anger you by interrupting something..."

"You may come at anytime that is convenient to you Potter. I will not be angered as long as you do not interrupt me personally while I am specifically doing something else. If I am busy, wait in the library, or in the entry hall. I will get to you when I am able."

"Alright. Thank you, sir. I'll go to the Room of Requirement as soon as I'm able tomorrow and locate the box. If I can slip out again tomorrow night, I'll bring the box then."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Harry did a quick bow of his head and turned and left the room. As he closed the door behind him, he saw Barty climbing the stairs and heading his way. The two nodded at each other in passing as Harry went down the hall towards the library.

He entered the oddly familiar and comfortable room and couldn't help but smile. He sat down in one of the stuffed arm chairs, unshrunk his trunk, grabbed one of the books he'd been reading recently and resumed where he had last left off. About twenty minutes later, the door to the library opened and 'Moody's' head popped through. Harry did a small double-take at seeing the auror's old scarred and pot-marked face, instead of Barty's, but quickly recovered and packed up his things.

The two quickly made their way to the entry hall, and then used Barty's portkey to return to the secret tunnel they had left from.

Another fifteen minutes and Harry was slipping in through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. He was absolutely exhausted and was eagerly looking forward to his bed. Despite the blood replenishment potion, he was still feeling rather lightheaded and weak on his feet. A good sleep would do him a lot of good.

He was also feeling rather overwhelmed by the events of the night. But it wasn't a bad sort of overwhelmed. He just felt like there had been _so much_ that had happened, and yet here he was, back in Gryffindor tower, and to everyone else, nothing had changed at all. It would be weird to act like the world was the same tomorrow as it had been yesterday.

No one else knew it yet, but that night, the whole world had changed.

And Harry had helped it happen.

– –

Harry slept through breakfast the next day, and was only up about a half hour before it was time for lunch. He spent a bit of time in the common room immediately after lunch with Hermione, while the two of them worked together on some of the book translation, while Ron played chess against some third-year. After Ron had thoroughly trounced the younger student in three games, he came over and Hermione decided that was the perfect time to switch to homework.

Harry had spent the time utterly distracted by the events of the previous night, but had managed to keep himself moving forward by the interesting puzzle the book presented. Now that he had switched over to his transfiguration essay, he was finding himself entirely unable to stay focused.

His mind kept wandering to the tasks he knew he needed to start working on. First was to find this hidden room that Voldemort had told him about, and recover the Dark Lord's things.

Next, he needed to try using legilimency on Trelawney and see if he can recover any of the prophecy from her mind. He had divination on Mondays, so at least he wouldn't have to wait all week to start working on it.

Going over the tasks he needed to work on was the only thing that could keep his mind from spinning away in circles over the insanity of what he'd taken part in the previous night. He was still indescribably jubilant that everything had gone so smoothly and that it had really, truly _worked._

Everything would change now, but it would be behind the scenes for quite a while now. No one else would know. It was so strange to be in on such an _enormous_ secret. Such a reality shattering, profound, huge _thing_. And no one else knew...

"Harry?"

"Huh?" Harry said, as his head shot up and he blinked at Hermione in mild confusion.

"Are you alright? You seem awfully distracted."

"Oh, yeah... I'm fine. I'm just a bit out of it. I'm probably going to run to the library a bit later. I need to return a couple books."

"I could go with you," she instantly offered, and she had that hopeful glow in her eyes.

"No, it's okay, Hermione. I'm probably going to go for a walk around the castle afterwards," Harry said, trying to give her an innocent, and apologetic smile.

Hermione's eyes narrowed for a split second, before they shifted to dejection and she sighed in defeat. "Alright, Harry. Fine."

An hour and a half later, Harry was standing in the seventh floor corridor with his back to a large tapestry featuring trolls in tutus trying to do ballet. He looked at the blank stone wall slightly dubious. Finally he shrugged his shoulders, closed his eyes and began chanting in his mind '_I need the room where things are hidden'_, while walking back and forth in front of the wall.

After the third pass, he opened his eyes just in time to see a large door materializing out of nothing.

His eyes widened, and his smile spread across his face. He quickly walked over, pulled the door open and entered. The room on the other side was enormous, and looked to all the world to be a graveyard for broken junk. The ceilings were incredibly high, and the room seemed to go on forever. Harry couldn't actually see any sign of the back wall from where he was standing at the head of the room.

The room was filled with a mountain of broken and damaged furniture, thousands upon thousands of books, many of which looked to be banned; chipped bottles of congealed potions, several rusting swords, and even a bloodstained axe.

Harry walked forward slowly and looked around the room with wide, curious eyes. He lingered at several piles of books, making note to come back with his trunk again later to sift through the room's treasures. As it were, he was on a timetable so he had to force himself to hurry up and went straight for his goal.

He turned back to the wall, followed it all the way down to the corner and looked for the large broken statue. He went ahead and tried to 'accio' the box, but it hadn't worked. Instead, he spent the next ten minutes digging through a mountain of junk until he finally uncovered a green box that fit the description Voldemort had given him.

He knew for a fact it was the correct box when it opened up the second he spoke the parseltongue password.

He cleared himself an open space to work, enlarged his own trunk, and set about the task of removing everything from the box and moving it into his trunk instead. He had to use his first compartment, since it had a space expansion charm on it that provided more room for the wide array of strange and unidentifiable magical objects. A lot of the things in the box wouldn't properly fit inside either of his book storage compartments, so it was the only option.

In the end, he came to realize that there was a _lot_ of stuff inside that seemingly small box, and it took him quite a while to get it all moved over.

Finally, he shrunk his trunk back down, returned it to his pocket, and left for the common room.

–

Despite his efforts and desires, Harry found it impossible to leave that evening to return to Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were on him like leaches, and by night fall, he was exhausted.

Sunday passed very much the same as Saturday, and Harry was equally distracted. He finished up all of his homework from the previous school week, and spent another hour with Hermione on translating the book. Shortly after 10 o'clock that night, he claimed exhaustion, slipped into the dorm room, transfigured his pillow into another dummy, slipped on his invisibility cloak, made sure his trunk was in his pocket, and flew out the window on his Firebolt. Harry flew low to the ground, so that no one looking up would be able to see him under the cloak, but instead of slipping back into the school and using one of the tunnels, he simply flew on his broom towards Hogsmeade until he felt himself pass through the wards.

This was going to be his first time entering Voldemort's manor house without 'Moody' escorting him. He was both eager and wary. He wished he had a way of letting the Dark Lord know he was coming so that, if it were a bad time, the man could tell him not to. But Voldemort had said he could come any time, and Harry could only hope that were true.

He landed, shrunk his broom and pocketed it. He pulled up his robes and exposed the leather cuff on his arm. He had discovered that it had a waterproof charm on when he had not wanted to remove it during his morning showers. He just didn't feel right allowing it out of his sight, for even a few minutes. Not to mention that he just didn't want to ever take the thing off.

He... _liked_ having it. Wearing it. It was a physical reminder that it had all really happened. A physical symbol of his connection to the Dark Lord.

He tapped it with his wand and whispered _"Morsmordre"_ and the mark appeared on it. It sent a crazed thrill through him and he almost chuckled at how absolutely insane he was for finding this exciting. Fundamentally, this was the mark that symbolized everything that his parents and their allies had dedicated their lives to fighting against. But he had come to realize that that really meant nothing to _him._ He wasn't indebted to dedicating his life to follow the ideals of people who he never knew. It was his life now, and he was going to chose his path.

And this was his path. He had chosen it, dedicated himself to it, he enjoyed it, and was utterly fucking thrilled that it was really working so far.

He sighed, and did a _finite_ to clear the mark from the cuff. He shifted to parseltongue and said the password again, this time activating the portkey instead. A quiet pop, and a tug behind the navel later and he was landing, unsteadily, in the entry hall of the manor.

– –


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Harry stuck his head through the study's door and glanced inside. Voldemort was sitting in his chair, but it wasn't behind the desk where it would normally be. Instead it was to the side of the desk, and he was working away on a very large piece of parchment. He was hunched over it, and scratching away at certain areas with a quill, and appeared quite focused on his work.

"Oh... excuse me, I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. Voldemort's head turned infinitesimally to one side so he could better see Harry out of his peripheral vision.

"Yes, Potter?"

"I got the items out of the Room of Requirement."

"Place them against the wall by the door," Voldemort said without looking up, as he continued on his work.

Harry nodded his head and slipped through the door, into the room. From there he could finally tell that the large sheet of parchment on Voldemort's desk was actually a topographical map. From what little he could see, he suspected it was a map of the manor grounds and surrounding area. He quickly focused on his task, crouched down, slipped his trunk from his pocket, enlarged it, and began pulling the items out of it while neatly stacking them in a pile.

The process took about ten minutes until he was sure he had removed every one of the strange objects, trinkets, and books he had pulled from the box in the hidden room. He sighed, closed the trunk, shrunk it, slid it back into his pocket, and stood to his feet. "They're all here. I'll just head back to Hogwarts, I don't want to bother you."

"Wait," Voldemort's voice called out through the thick silence and Harry froze. "I will be done shortly and I have a few things that need to be dealt with concerning you."

Harry blinked. "Alright. Where shall I wait?"

Voldemort's left hand rose and indicated that Harry should approach, so he did. "Sit. I am working on planning the manor's new wards. It will take me another twenty minutes to reach an appropriate stopping point. You will read _this,"_ he paused and dug a book out of one of the desk drawers, "until I am ready."

Harry quickly accepted the offered book before looking around, searching for a place to sit. There weren't any other chairs in the room at the moment. He wondered where the one he sat in the last time he was here had gone, but Voldemort, once again, was engrossed in his work, and Harry didn't want to bother him. Harry's mind quickly settled on the floor. The idea didn't really bother him any, the question was _where_ on the floor to sit.

He eyed the open space between the door and the desk, but his body was yearning to be closer to Voldemort. Closer to the man's magic, and the pulsing invisible waves of his magic. Harry's eyes lulled closed a tiny bit as he lost his senses in the feel of the magic and found himself sitting down in a smooth motion, directly beside Voldemort's chair. He opened his eyes and furtively darted them up to see if the Dark Lord had watched him sit, and if there appeared to be any disapproval in his choice of spots. There was none. Voldemort was still engrossed in his work.

He sat cross-legged and hunched over the book. It was on creating false auras and false affinity signatures. _Deceiving the Inner Senses, and other detection spells_ by Barat Facen.

Harry began to open the book and saw there was a small bookmark about half-way through the book. The chapter that was marked was about the counter to the _affinitatem reveleo _spell, so it was pretty obvious that this was where he was intended to start.

Quite some time had passed before he heard the scratching quill and ruffling parchments finally quiet, followed by Voldemort heaving a quiet sigh and shifting in his chair. Harry didn't even know when it had happened, but at some point he had shifted his position from sitting and hunching over the book about a foot from the side of Voldemort's chair, to actually leaning his back directly against the side of the chair, and stretching one leg out while the other was bent up.

Despite the fact that he was on the floor, he had felt exceedingly comfortable sitting there in the study, silently reading, while Voldemort worked. When he thought that the time was coming to an end and he would be leaving soon, he felt a pang of disappointment. When he let his rational mind think about it later, he would realize how utterly surreal that was. But at that moment, sitting in Voldemort's presence, he just felt calm and comfortable, and simply didn't want that to end. The quiet mingling of their magics also gave the room a wonderful taste to the air. At least, Harry thought so. He was still unsure if other people actually sensed these things like he did, and had to admit, he wondered why.

Voldemort leaned back and melted a bit into the chair. Harry wondered how long Voldemort had been working on the wards, and what all they would do. He wanted to ask, but was unsure if it was really his place to do so.

Voldemort's left arm fell down onto the armrest of the chair and his hand hung over the outer edge. His fingers dangled down and brushed against the top of Harry's head. Harry sucked in a harsh, startled breath at the intensity of the sensation that shot through him at the brief, direct, physical contact.

Voldemort's hand stiffened the instant after it had brushed against Harry's head, but Harry didn't know if it was in response to Harry's shocked breath, or if he had possibly felt something too.

Harry's mind was jumbled and confused. He couldn't quite put words to what he had felt. It had happened to fast, and been too brief. All he knew was that it was decidedly _good, _and he wanted to experience it again. Harry closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. It didn't matter _what_ he wanted. This was the Dark Lord Voldemort. Asking the man to touch him was out of the question. More than that, it was idiotic.

Finally, Voldemort moved again and Harry quickly shifted his position so that he was no longer leaning against the chair, just in time for Voldemort to push it back and begin to stand. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, as he simultaneously moved the book mark to the page he had ended on and closed the book.

"You will leave that book here. You can come back and continue to read it while you are here, but you will not be taking it with you," Voldemort said as he began to straighten up a few pieces of parchment on his desk.

"Oh..." Harry ineloquently replied with a bit of surprise.

Voldemort apparently finished up with what he was sorting through and turned to face Harry. Something flickered across his ruby eyes for a moment, but was gone before Harry could make sense of it.

"Come with me," he said as he began to quickly stride from the room, making Harry scramble to keep up.

Voldemort lead them down the hall to the staircase, and went up this time. Harry hadn't had any visions where he traveled to the third floor, so he really had no idea what was up there. At the top of the stairs, they took a left, and entered the first door on the right. As they entered the lights instantly came on. From what Harry could tell, it was a storeroom for various objects. He suspected that many of the things he had recovered from the Room of Requirement would probably end up in here. As he quickly glanced around, he realized he could hardly identify anything he saw.

Voldemort walked directly over to one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves and pulled out a medium sized, carved box with a hinged lid. He took the box over to the center of the room, where a bare table was sitting and set it down. He looked over at Harry with a pointed expression and Harry quickly made his way over to stand beside the man.

As he got there, Voldemort opened the box, and Harry saw that it was full of... _wands._ He blinked in confusion.

"You will need a second wand," Voldemort began, "All wands purchased for young children from Ollivander have a ministry trace spell applied to them. It automatically dispells when you turn seventeen, along with the trace spell that exists on your person. The secondary wand will have no such tracking charm in place. You will also need to make sure you only ever use your secondary wand for the dark arts. If you are ever in a situation where you have been accused of some misdeed or crime, they will check your wand before anything else. Are you aware of a spell called _Priori Incantum?_"

Harry shook his head.

"It will reveal the last spells you cast with your wand. They can keep casting it on your wand and reveal as many as the last fifty spells you have cast. There is a spell called _Deletrius_ which removes evidence of previous spells cast by the wand, but you will not always have the time or opportunity to use the spell to clear your wand if put into a tight situation. Not to mention, a cleared wand history looks suspicious. If you have performed any dark arts recently, those spells will show up your wand if someone casts the _priori incantum_ on it. If you only use your first wand for your classwork, and your second wand for your dark arts practice, you will be safe."

Harry was nodding his head in agreement. It had never occurred to him that any of that could happen, but he realized he should have. Now that he thought of it, Crouch Sr. had cased the _priori incantum_ spell on his wand at the World Cup. It had shown that his wand had been used to summon the dark mark. Now that he fully realized what it meant, he _definitely_ agreed that it was important that he get a second wand.

"I had a storehouse of supplies that was fortunately left undiscovered during my _absence._ I made it a point to collect as many wands as possible over the years during the war for just such occasions as this. Go through these until you find one that is acceptable," Voldemort said as he waved his hand towards the box and stepped to the side.

Harry quickly stepped forward and picked up the first wand. It felt completely wrong on his hand, so he didn't even bother giving it a flick before setting it down on the table. He just kept going from there; going from one wand to the next. Some wands felt cold, some just felt _numb_. Some were mildly warm and tingled a bit so he set them to the side as 'potentials' to sort through later.

He sighed in slight annoyance after he'd gotten through almost the entire box and still hadn't found anything that felt right... or even _close_ to right. Voldemort chuckled and Harry looked up at him and felt himself smirk at the Dark Lord's amusement at his impatience.

"I was at Ollivander's for ages before he pulled out my holly and phoenix feather wand," Harry said as he continued to pick up wand after wand, and quickly discard them.

Voldemort hummed and looked off into the room.

Harry paused and a deep, thoughtful look crossed his face. "Do you still have the same wand you first got from Ollivander? Or was it lost?"

"I still have it."

"The one with the phoenix feather? Yew, I think?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and rose a single eyebrow questioningly.

"Ollivander told me about it because, apparently, your wand, and the wand I ended up with, are the only two wands that Fawkes ever gave tail feathers for. He said our wands had _twin cores_, or something. Said it was 'curious' in that annoying way he talks and that my wand was destined for great things or something."

Voldemort scoffed in amusement. "Sounds like something that man would say. I can even hear him saying it in my mind. That bit about our wands having twin cores _is_ quite curious though. May I see your wand?"

Harry quickly pulled out his holly wand and handed it over. Voldemort took out his yew wand and held the two side-by-side, one in each hand. He shifted the holly wand into his wand-hand and acted as if he were getting a feel for it.

"Hm. This wand _would_ work for me as well. They are quite similar. The holly doesn't conduct my magic as well, though. I can definitely tell the cores are almost identical though."

Harry couldn't help but eye Voldemort's yew wand with an air of intense curiosity, but suspected that asking to hold the Dark Lord's wand was probably a bad idea, so he kept his mouth shut.

Voldemort seemed to sense what he was thinking and smirked at him with an air of amusement. He handed Harry's wand back to him and Harry quickly pocketed it as he resumed his search through the box of wands.

There were only six wands left in the bottom of the box when Harry finally felt something _right_ graze his fingertips. He paused and moved his hand back to the wand he'd just brushed up against. He grasped it, pulled it out and held it firmly in his grip. His magic coursed through it smoothly and easily. It seemed to magically vibrate at the same frequency as his own magic and the way it was in sync with him felt perfect. Harry was startled to realize that it felt like a better match than his holly wand.

"Found a match?" Voldemort's curious voice broke through Harry's stupor and he quickly nodded his head.

"Er... yeah. This one. Definitely this one."

"Let's see it," Voldemort said holding his hand out. Harry handed it over and Voldemort tapped his wand against it and some glowing text appeared over it that only the caster could really read. "Hm. Interesting," Voldemort said with an air of amusement and a smirk gracing his lips.

"What is it?" Harry asked, suddenly extremely curious.

"It is cypress wood. The core is dragon heart-string. Apparently from a Chinese fireball. You had to face that breed during the first task, didn't you?"

Harry blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Huh. Well, that's interesting, I suppose. I've never heard of a wand made of cypress."

"I don't think it's one of the types that Ollivander generally uses. I would guess the wand is foreign made by the core and wood type." Voldemort held his and and the cypress wand side by side. "Same length. So that makes this 13½ inches." He handed the wand back to Harry. "How good is the match?"

"Perfect," Harry said as he stared down at the wand in his hand. "Honestly, it feels like a better match than my holly wand does. I used to think it fit me perfectly."

"As I understand it, your magical core has shifted and grown considerably in the last year. It makes sense for the wand to suit you less now than it once did. Some types of wand wood conduct the dark arts significantly better than others. When Ollivander received only two feathers from Dumbledore's pet chicken, I imagine he intentionally used two contrasting types of wood for the two wands he created. One with a notably 'light' leaning wood, and one with a notably 'dark' wood. Yew, is more commonly associated with the dark arts. Performing the dark arts is easier with it as a conductor. Yew is a symbol of death and the hope for eternal life. Holly, in contrast, symbolizes holiness, consecration, material gain, physical revenge, beauty, and immortality."

Harry blinked. "Do you have an eidetic memory?"

Voldemort laughed. Literally _laughed._ He stopped quickly though, but smirked at Harry in amusement.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Although I didn't come by it entirely naturally. It is the result of a ritual I performed in my forth year at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Harry asked, with obvious interest in his voice. "I'll have to look into that one... Anyway, so what's the symbolism behind cypress wood, then?"

"The cypress tree is a symbol of death, because once cut, it never springs up again from its roots. It is also associated with the Greek god of the underworld, Hades. It is, like yew, more often than not considered a _dark_ wand material."

"Ah... I see," Harry said as he looked down at his new wand with peaked interest.

Harry shifted his grip on the wand a few times, trying out how it felt in his hand. It was a few inches longer than his other wand and he wondered if the added length would mess up his casting any. The weight felt well balanced and the wood was smooth and polished. He found himself wishing he could start using that wand in class instead, and just drop the holly wand all together, but he knew that would defeat the purpose of getting it at all.

Harry turned to face the door they had come in from and cast a couple very simple spells. A _lumos_, a gentle breeze charm, and a localized warming charm; just to get a feel for it. He was grinning widely by the time he was done. He turned back to find Voldemort putting all of the other wands back into the box and then placing it on the shelf where it came from.

"Thank you for this... a lot. I mean it. It's fantastic. I never would have thought I'd find another wand that I'd feel more comfortable with than my holly wand," Harry said, earnestly as he looked down at the wand again with honest joy in his eyes.

Voldemort found himself almost uncomfortable with the words, and look of true appreciation and thankfulness in Harry's face. It wasn't a reaction he got often. It wasn't like he ever did anything unselfishly. If he did something for someone else, it was only because it would also benefit himself as well. Allowing Harry to get caught would only cause the Dark Lord's plans to come crashing down on his own head, so it was only prudent to start taking some precautions.

Voldemort gave Harry a dismissive wave of his hand. "Yes, of course. Just make sure you keep this one hidden from anyone else at the school. Also, this is only half of the precautions we need to take before I can let you perform any substantial magic while in the manor."

Harry stood straighter, taking on an air of serious attention.

"As an underaged wizard, you have a Ministry Trace spell on you. The wards that I currently have around the manor have prevented any of the magic performed in here from being detected by an outside source, which is the only reason the trace hasn't gone off on you already. However, we cannot entirely rely on that alone if you are to practice and perform any spells while here."

Harry's brow creased as he listened. "How does this Trace work?"

"It is a very rudimentary magic detection and location based spell. It cannot detect if _you _specifically cast any magic, but it can detect magic being cast. Once a spell is detected, the first thing it does is check to see if you are in, or near Hogwarts. If you are, it shuts down. If you are _not_, then the next thing it checks for is if there are any adult wizards around. If there are, it shuts down, assuming that the adult wizard cast the magic. If there are not any adult wizards, it assumes that you performed the magic yourself and the alarm goes off in the Ministry. At this point, it also checks to see if there are any muggles in the immediate vicinity and if there are, an additional infraction is noted, and a ministry obliviator is contacted."

Harry's eyes went wide as he took this in. "So, every time I perform magic, the Ministry can figure out where I am?"

"No. The spell cannot inform the Ministry of your location specifically, only if you are, or are not in Hogwarts. It uses the castle's wards to check."

"Oh... well, that's better at least..."

"Yes... in any case, we want it gone. There is a ritual that will dispell it quite easily, and you will return here tomorrow night for that."

Harry felt a bit queasy at the prospect of partaking in a ritual again so soon. The last one hadn't exactly been terribly pleasant for him, even if it could have been a lot worse. Voldemort could, apparently, see this in Harry's expression because he smirked and chuckled lightly.

"Do not worry so much, Potter. This will not involve any blood or knives. It won't even hurt for more than a minute and the pain is quite mild."

"You've performed it?"

"When I was fifteen, yes. I had absolutely no intention of returning to my summer living arrangements without free access to my magic, but I was also not willing to risk expulsion by getting caught."

"I can certainly empathize with that," Harry muttered darkly, as he remembered how many times during the previous summers, he had wished he could use his magic and not get caught. Suddenly he realized that was exactly what would come of this.

"Wait... so this... this will be permanent right? The trace will be gone from me, so even during the summers I can use magic and not end up expelled?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes in exasperation. "_Yes,_ Potter, that is exactly what it means. Although, I suspect that there are additional magic detection charms built into the wards around that muggle hovel the old man sends you to each summer."

Harry scowled darkly and Voldemort could see his knuckles turning white from strain. "Why the hell should I even have to go back there?" Harry muttered, angrily.

"You _shouldn't_ have to go back. And honestly, you _don't,_" Voldemort said as he casually leaned against the table in the center of the room. Harry couldn't help the portion of his mind that thought the man standing before him looked incredibly regal, and enticing as he propped himself against the table with one hand, in such a confident and relaxed pose. Harry shook his head to clear it of the strange thoughts.

"That may be true, but Dumbledore still insists I go back every year. He won't let me leave until he says it's okay –"

"And what right does that man have to dictate where you spend your summers?" Voldemort broke in with a disgusted sneer. "He is the headmaster of your _school_, not your legal guardian during the summers. He handed those rights over to the muggles when he abandoned you on their doorstep. His authority over you ends the moment you leave the boundary of the school. _The muggles_ dictate where you go during your holidays, and if you can _convince_ them to approve of your absence, then that is all that matters. You inherited the Potter fortune, did you not? Take your money, disappear for a few months and give the old man a heart attack."

Voldemort said it in such a flippant and dismissive way that Harry actually laughed. "You know... I really should," Harry said through his chuckles. "The problem is that he would track me down where ever I went."

"Leave the country. Take a holiday. Keep moving. Never stay in one place for more than a day or two, and he will not be able to track you," Voldemort said, waving his hand and then standing up straighter. "He will see a rebelling, angsty teenager. Of course, as an alternative, you could simply stay here, and assist _me_. I certainly wouldn't mind having someone more competent than _Wormtail_ around to aid me. I will have called back my other Death Eaters by then, but they all have lives, careers, and public personas to maintain, so they will not be able to stay here for any long durations. Additionally, once I have completed my wards, there is no way that Dumbledore would be able to find you, as long as you were within them."

Harry stared at the man in utter astonished disbelief for a very long minute. Had he just been invited to spend the summer with Voldemort?

"In any case, the choice is yours to make," Voldemort continued dismissively. "Now, It is late and I need my rest. I'm sure you could use some as well, seeing as how you have classes in the morning. Return tomorrow night at 9pm."

Harry stood straighter, sensing the dismissal, but was a little unsure about the time frame for his return.

"Nine o'clock might be a little difficult. Unless it's going to take less than a half hour. Seeing as how curfew is at ten... it's just harder for me to get away with my dorm mates not noticing that sort of thing unless I slip out after they're all asleep."

"It needs to be nine. Make sure you are not late. Getting back will not be a problem either, I already have arrangements made," Voldemort said simply as he began to leave the room.

Harry was uncertain, but if the man said he'd made arrangements, Harry could only trust he meant it. He quickly followed after the Dark Lord as he was escorted back to the entry hall where he used the portkey on his cuff to return to the school.

– –

The following day felt utterly surreal. It was Monday. Just a plain, regular, Monday. It was a stark reminder that the rest of the world was still utterly oblivious that everything had changed, and they just didn't know it yet. Monday morning brought Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and then Care of Magical Creatures. Harry spent most of Lunch going over in his mind, different ways he might tackle his task of dealing with Trelawney. He was still utterly dumbfounded that it was _her_, of all people, who had made the prophecy that basically dictated his entire life.

On one hand, Harry suddenly felt like he needed to learn a whole lot more about this Divination nonsense, seeing as how it had managed to play a huge role the whole foundation of his life, and he had been utterly ignorant of it. On the other hand, he wanted to read Trelawney's mind, find out the prophecy, and never again set foot in her presence. And possibly find some way to horribly decapitate her later on without getting caught.

Hermione was talking about the Arithmancy essay that was due in her next class – a class that took place at the exact same time as divination. Harry paused in thought for a moment.

"Hey, Hermione?"

Hermione paused in the middle of whatever it was she had been saying, that no one had actually been listening to and blinked at him. "Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know if it's possible to start a new elective even if you're beyond third year?"

"No... I don't think so," she said slowly as she screwed up her face in thought. "I mean, a person wouldn't be able to join in with my class on Arithmancy or Runes next year because they'd missed last year and this year. It wouldn't be possible to get caught up."

"No, not join _your_ class... if I did take up either subject, I'd be in with the third years, but I'm honestly okay with that."

Hermione looked a bit stunned, but then she looked a bit excited and curious. "Are you serious, Harry?"

"Yeah. I mean, if I started either subject next year, I'd have enough years to take OWLs in the subjects. I wouldn't be able to take the class long enough to sit my NEWTs, but even three years of those subjects will be _loads_ more useful than ruddy _divination._"

Hermione had a proud, excited expression on her face. Ron looked horrified.

"Are you _mental_, mate! Do you have any idea how hard those subjects are?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do _you_ have any idea how _valuable_ those subjects are? Honestly Ron – it may seem brilliant to take the light classes, and get an 'easy O' now while in school, just so that you can have more time to screw around, but it's only going to make more work for you later on when you get _out_ of school."

"ARGH! You've turned into bloody Hermione!" Ron groaned in slightly exaggerated horror.

Hermione scowled at Ron for a moment before returning her extremely proud expression on Harry. "Oh Harry! I'm _so pleased_ that you've started to realize these things for yourself! I definitely think you should go talk to Professor McGonagall and tell her about your idea. Which subject are you thinking of taking? Or do you think you could handle both, because they very taxing courses. It's a lot to handle."

Harry fought the urge to scowl at her. No matter how far he'd come, and how well he performed in classes, it seemed she would always think him inferior to her in the smarts department. He seriously doubted that Hermione could perform even half the spells he had mastered down in the chamber. But that was primarily because she just didn't have the magical affinity, or the stomach for that sort of thing.

"Yeah, I think I'll be taking both. If McGonagall is worried about the work load, I'll just drop Care of Magical Creatures. I mean... I know Hagrid will be upset, but I'm sure I could convince him that it's for the best."

"You'd drop Care!" Ron exclaimed in horror. "You can't drop that too! I mean... what about Hagrid? What about me? I'm gonna end up alone in both classes?"

"Hagrid will survive. And it's not like you're _alone_ Ron. You can still partner up with Seamus or Neville in both classes," Harry said, only barely stalling his eye roll.

"But won't that be _weird?_ Being in two classes with a bunch of third years?"

Harry shrugged and took another bit of the large turkey sandwich on his plate. He waited until he'd swallowed, and then said, "Honestly, I don't care if it is weird. I think that those subjects are too important to pass up."

"But _why?_ You don't need either of those to be an Auror. Why bother?" Ron asked, with obvious confusion.

This time Harry _did_ roll his eyes. "I don't want to _be_ a bloody Auror. I'm still not positive what I am going to go into, but I know it's not that."

"What!" Ron and Hermione both exclaimed at the same time.

"But Harry... I... I thought –" Ron began, but his voice trailed off weakly in confusion and surprise.

"When did this happen? I thought you'd been set on being an auror since last year?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't exactly have any idea what my options were, honestly. Basically, I knew my dad was an auror; aurors catch dark wizards; and the whole wizarding world expects me to fight dark wizards. It was more of those 'this is what's expected of me, so I guess I'll just do that' sort of deals, rather than looking at my options and putting forth the effort to find something I actually _want to do._"

"Well, have you looked at the options, then?" Hermione asked.

Harry frowned and looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm only in my forth year, so it's not like I _have_ to make my mind up already, and I've still got lots of time to change my mind later all... I think that I'd probably prefer to avoid the Ministry, all together, but if I _did_ go to work for the Ministry, I suspect the only job I'd be interested in would be becoming an Unspeakable."

Ron blanched and Hermione gaped at him in shock.

"You'd want to be an Unspeakable!" Ron said in a harsh whisper.

"It's one of the things on my 'to consider' list, at least. But I'd need to get NEWTs in arithmancy for that job, so after graduating Hogwarts, I'd have to hire a private tutor, or do private study and eventually take the test at the Ministry on my own."

"You've really put a lot of thought to this, haven't you," Hermione said with that proud look on her face.

Harry wasn't about to correct her assumption. Truth was he hadn't put much of _any_ thought to it. It was all stuff he'd read in other sources and was only just now putting together. It hadn't even occurred to him, before that day, to try taking Arithmancy or Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, and while he had been fascinated about the Unspeakables when he first read about them in one of Tom Riddle's books, it hadn't occurred to him before that very moment to consider that as a career goal. Now that it _had_ occurred to him, it seemed obvious, and he wished he'd thought of it sooner. He could only imagine what sorts of things he could discover for the Dark Lord if he got in there. Although, ideally, by the time Harry would be old enough to get a job there, Voldemort would have already gained control over the Ministry, so it was possible this was all moot.

Harry shrugged at Hermione. "I suppose. I've been trying to think about a lot of things, more now, than I used to."

"Well, I'm glad!" Hermione said with a smug grin and a bob of her head. Ron scowled and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, mate. We've got to get to Divination," Ron grumbled as he began to grab his bag and stand.

Harry nodded, grabbed his things and stood as well. They bid Hermione farewell and began to make the long trek up to Trelawney's tower.

When they finally got there, they found that the seats had been rearranged so that they formed a very large circle around the center of the room, where a round, stone, fire pit was placed. Trelawney was standing over the fire pit, pointing her wand and levitating a bunch of rocks into a pyramid shape, and then placing white wooden driftwood around them in a circle.

Harry rolled his eyes at the woman, not even bothering to wonder what the hell she was on now, and sat down in one of the chairs, followed by Ron. A few minutes later, most of the class had arrived and Trelawney used an _incendio_ spell to light a fire in the fire pit. Once everyone was present, she began a lecture on smoke scrying. Apparently, the first half of the class they would try to see... er, _something_ in the spoke from the fire. Then, after that section was done, she would be dousing the fire with water. The water, poured over the hot stones, would create steam, and they would then try to see stuff in _that_.

Harry silently griped and wondered if she had performed something like this, only added some _questionable_ herbs in with the burning stones right before making the prediction that destroyed the first thirteen years of his life.

"Do not follow the smoke up but rather allow the smoke to forms patterns within your spiritual gaze. In time you will see visions of many far off events," Trelawney was saying at one point and Harry heaved a sigh as he began to stare into the billowing smoke.

He saw... nothing. He _imagined_ he saw himself strangling Trelawney, but he seriously doubted that was a prophetic vision, nearly as much as what he just _really really wanted_ to be doing.

He tried, several times, to make prolonged eye contact with the teacher, but she was pointedly staring off into space, which made this rather difficult. At one point, Trelawney began to call on each of them so that they could describe what they had seen, and Harry quickly concocted a story to tell when she got to him. Finally, it was his turn, and as she focused on him, she looked him straight in the eyes.

He began to spout off the nonsense he made up, while at the same time, splitting off a bit of his consciousness to slip into her mind. He went digging through a disorganized mountain of memories and images, trying desperately to find something useful in what little time he had available to him. He tried focusing on the lines of the prophecy that he actually _knew_, but he was coming up with nothing. Absolutely _nothing._

And then he was pulled out of her mind as she turned her head towards the fire pit again and began to recount how impressed she was with his progress. His inner-eye had apparently been developing nicely these last few months, since he learned how to be a better liar and a better actor.

He sat there and stewed in his own annoyance. He had _known_ that it wouldn't be easy to find, but he had still harbored some hope that it would just _work_.

Frustrated, he sighed and sat back in his seat to wait out either the next opportunity to slip into her head, or until the end of the class so he could get the hell out of the smoky, stuffy, tower room.

– –


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

After dinner, Harry stayed with Hermione and Ron, instead of running off to the chamber right away. They both seemed rather surprised by this, but Harry tried to play it off as a non-issue. He doubted he could get away with disappearing at 8:30 – which was when he planned to leave in order to make it to Voldemort's manor with enough time to spare – if he was also gone for his usual hour after dinner.

As he sat there, working on his homework, he asked Hermione a few remedial questions about arithmancy and ancient runes. She was clearly _very _excited to discuss her favorite classes with someone else and easily prattled on about both. At 8:20, Harry asked Hermione to recommend the best Rune dictionary for a beginning, and then said he was going to go to the library before Madam Pince closed it for the night. He said he might stay there and browse a bit.

It was obvious that Hermione was itching to come with him, but she had a huge pile of work in front of her, and he had known before he even mentioned it, that she wouldn't be willing to uproot herself from her study table.

Still, there had been a brief moment where he feared she would surprise him, and insist on coming with him.

Relieved that it didn't become a problem, Harry slipped from the common room with his bag slung over his shoulder. The first secret passageway he came across, he ducked behind the tapestry covering the entrance, and threw on his invisibility cloak while pulling out the map.

He quickly checked the Defense corridor where the statue of the one-eyed witch covered the entrance to a tunnel. It was empty, and the way there was pretty clear. It wasn't after curfew yet, so there weren't any people patrolling the halls to catch anyone out after hours.

Harry rushed there, and slipped into the tunnel without encountering any resistance. He jogged through the narrow tunnel, eager to get past the wards as quickly as possible. He finally made it, pulled up the left sleeve of his robes and hissed the command to activate the portkey.

A dizzying moment later, he was standing in the entry hall of Voldemort's manor house. He stood there for a moment and checked his wrist watch. He had arrived at 5 till 9 o'clock, so he had made it in time. He wondered if he should go up to the study, or if the ritual would be performed in the ballroom. He doubted it would be elaborate enough for such a large space, but at the same time, he really had no idea what would be involved.

Harry decided to just go up to the study to look for Voldemort there, and then if he _wasn't_, he would just have to... find him some other way...

_...fff... feel him..._

Harry stopped in his tracks at having suddenly heard his companions voice. The two hadn't conversed much outside of his nightly routine and Potions class, so he was a bit surprised to hear the voice in his head while at Voldemort's manor.

Once his surprise had faded, he finally thought about what had been said.

"_Feel him?"_

_Hisss... magic... Follow __your... ssscar._

Harry blinked and then did a mental 'face-palm' and grinned. It really was rather obvious, once he thought about it.

"_Thanks,"_ Harry thought mentally with a grin before closing his eyes and reaching out with his magic to sense the familiar magical signature of the Dark Lord.

He quickly realized that the man was _not_ in his study. He was on the first floor, although he didn't seem to be in the ballroom that he had been in for the resurrection ritual.

He opened his eyes and followed the potent magical vibrations that radiated out from the most powerful dark wizard alive. He went down a long hall, and then turned off into another before finding himself in front of a very nondescript door. He had absolutely no doubt that Voldemort was on the other side of it, but wondered if it was alright for him to knock, or if he should wait a minute. For all he knew, he was looking at the door to the loo. And while his mind was quickly adjusting to the knowledge that Voldemort was in fact a living human being, it was still odd to think of the man going to the bathroom.

He stood there awkwardly for a minute, debating whether or not he should knock when the door suddenly flew open and Voldemort was standing there, looking at him with impatient annoyance.

"How long, exactly, did you plan to just stand there?" He asked as he spun around and began to walk back into the room, not bothering to wait for a response. Harry quickly hurried after, and closed the door behind him.

When Harry turned around to face the room, he froze and his eyes widened in shock.

It was the loo.

Well, it was a bathroom. A very large bathroom, that had tub that was sunken into the tiled floor that looked more like a small pool, or perhaps a hot tub, only without the bubbles.

To one side of the room, was a cauldron with a potion of some sort boiling away in it. Voldemort was walking back to the cauldron at that moment, but Harry was just too confused by what he was looking at to know what to do.

Surely the man had a more appropriate place for brewing potions than a bathroom?

"You will need to soak in a special bath for the next five hours. At the end of that time, you will speak the ritual words, endure about one minute of mild pain, and the trace will be dispelled," Voldemort said as he added one last thing to the cauldron and stirred it a few times.

"Whuh? I... wait... Five hours!" Harry said, finally catching up with what had just been said.

"Yes, Potter. Five hours," Voldemort responded with a flat and slightly annoyed tone.

"I really didn't make a suitable excuse for disappearing that long," Harry said hesitantly as he finally took a few more steps into the posh, tiled bathroom.

"I told you it wouldn't be a problem, and it won't be," Voldemort sighed in exasperation.

Harry sighed and shrugged. "Alright. If you say so. So... what do I need to do, exactly?"

"Very little. I've done all the work for you," Voldemort said as he finally turned his head to look over his shoulder back at Harry. He was smirking, and there was mild amusement in his eyes, which helped put some of Harry's nerves at ease. "Like I said, you _quite literally_ just have to soak in the tub." Voldemort stood up and walked over over to a table at the side of the room that had a number of folded towels sitting on top of it. To one side of the table was an open book, and a couple pieces of parchment. Voldemort picked up one of the parchments and walked over to Harry.

"It has been charmed to be waterproof. At the end of the five hours, an alarm will sound. Pick up your wand, follow these instructions for the proper focus, and speak these words," as he spoke he pointed at different areas of the parchment before handing it over to Harry. "When you finish, come get me in my study, I have something I need to explain before you leave."

Harry nodded his head and began to read the piece of parchment. Voldemort walked over to the cauldron, and with a wave of his wand, it floated up into the air, away from the fire, and hovered over the tub, that was already filled with water. He flicked his wand and the cauldron turned over and its contents fell into the tub.

Harry looked at it with mild apprehension but quickly pushed past it and began to remove his robes. He folded them and set them on the edge of a counter behind him and began to remove his undershirt. He hesitated at that point, wondering if the man intended to leave soon, or if he was going to wait until Harry got into the water.

"Don't be so modest, Potter. I need to add a few additional ingredients after you've entered the water. Get on with it."

Harry blushed and ducked his head as he reached down and unbuckled his belt and began to undo his trousers. He turned away, hating how idiotic he felt, as he pulled his boxers down and took a deep breath, as he tried to compose himself. He quickly made his way over to the sunken bath and slipped one foot in. He could _feel_ Voldemort's eyes on him as he stood there, stark naked for all the world to see. Or... for the Dark Lord to see. His gaze was piercing – or at least, it felt that way. For all Harry knew, Voldemort had his eyes closed, seeing as how Harry was pointedly refusing to look the other man in the face. He quickly tested the water, wanting to sink down into it and obscure his nudity as quickly as possible. It was really quite hot. A bit hotter than he was comfortable with, but he figured he'd adjust.

He quickly forced himself to sink down into the water and found that it had a raised seating platform along the outer edge. Harry's hand sank into the water and he tried to casually cover himself with them, which caused Voldemort to snicker. He walked around the bathtub adding in various sand-like looking ingredients, and a few leaves that Harry didn't recognize.

"That is all that is necessary until the five hours are up. You may read, just make sure you don't do anything stupid like drop your book in the water."

Harry grabbed his cypress wand, that he had placed on the edge of the tub and used it to levitate his book bag from against the wall to the edge of the tub where he could reach it.

"Oh, and _definitely_ do not drop your wand in the water. You will have to start over completely if that happens."

Harry's eyes went wide and he nodded his head. "Right. Got it. Erm... thanks... for this. All of it. I really appreciate it. I mean, you didn't have to go to all this trouble for me, so I can't express how much I really am thankful."

"Oh, shut it, Potter. Come get me when your done. Nagini might drop by for a visit. She enjoys the warmth of the room," Voldemort spoke with easy disinterest as he gathered a few things and quickly left the room.

Harry blinked after him before taking in a deep breath and sighing heavily. Of all the things he had imagined for this 'ritual', a long soak in a hot bath, was most definitely not on his list. After a quiet, peaceful minute had passed, the stunned confusion that had filled him from the moment he had entered the room, up until Voldemort had left, finally abated, and he found himself calming down and truly relaxing.

He let himself just soak for a while. Relaxing his mind and letting himself drift away. About forty-five minutes in, he was starting to get rather bored, so he pulled a book from his backpack, cast a temporary waterproofing charm on it, and began to read.

After an hour of that, his eyes felt strained, and he decided to try doing some laps. He wasn't sure if whatever Voldemort had put in the water would be bad for his eyes, so he avoided dunking his head under the surface. He'd been playing around in the misty-looking water for a while when he heard a hissing sound that he had only ever heard in visions. He looked towards the door, but it was still closed shut. He glanced around again, and finally noticed that the hissing sound was coming from a metal vent in the wall, towards the floor. The vent cover appeared to have a hinge along the top, and no sooner had he spotted it, then he saw it getting pushed open to reveal the head of a large black snake.

Nagini slithered down the foot of space between the vent and the floor, and then slowly muscled her entire length out of it and onto the floor. Harry watched her move and was actually rather transfixed with the way she moved, and the way the light glittered off her obsidian scales. She was a really beautiful snake. He could see why Voldemort had chosen her as his familiar.

_§Hello, Nagini,§ _Harry hissed and the serpent froze and instantly jerked her head in his direction.

_§Master sssaid you were a ssspeaker...§_ she hissed with an air of surprise in her voice. She paused and seemed to consider him for a long minute. _§Make__ me a rock to perch upon_,she demanded simply.

Harry blinked at her.

_§Pardon?§_

_§Make me a rock with your sstick and make it warm. Masster always uses his ssstick to make my perch.§_

Harry looked around the room for anything he could easily transfigure into a rock large enough to house Nagini. There was a chair off to one side of the room that had potential. Harry grabbed his wand from the side of the tub, summoned the chair closer and set it in the center of the floor a few feet from the edge of the tub.

_§What are you doing?§_ Nagini hissed in impatience.

_§I'm going to transfigure the chair into a rock for you,§ _Harry hissed back, a little annoyed at her attitude.

_§Masster can make a rock from nothing with his sstick.§_

_§Yes, well your master is indescribably more experienced with magic than I am. Conjuring something from nothing is not exactly easy, and I haven't really covered that in my classes yet. But I _can_ transfigure the chair into a rock.§_

_§And you will make it warm?§_

_§And I will make it warm.§ _Harry echoed with an exasperated eyeroll.

_§Good.§_

Harry chuckled and quickly transfigured the chair into a large, flat rock and then cast a warming charm on it. Nagini slithered over and curled up into a coil on top of it. She made a pleased sort of hissing noise and seemed to slip off to sleep.

Harry read a couple chapters from a book, did a few laps, and read a bit from another book, before Nagini began to stir.

Harry noticed that she had her own unique magic vibration. It was strangely familiar, and comforting, in the same sort of way he felt around Voldemort himself. There was no rational explanation behind it, he just felt an easy relaxing sort of vibe off her. Which was exceptionally odd since she was such a brat.

The best Harry could figure was that Voldemort had to have put some of his own power into her, and it was _that_ that he was feeling so comfortable with. The two of them carried on a bit of a conversation for a while. Nothing serious was really discussed, although they did spend a bit of time talking about how pathetic Wormtail was. Nagini said that he was an abysmal and utterly inadequate servant to her master, and that she enjoyed terrorizing him. Apparently, having spent more than a decade as a rat had only intensified his natural fear of giant serpents, and Nagini absolutely terrified him. Harry laughed at the sight he imagined in his mind of the short, pudgy, balding man, running in terror from the large snake.

Nagini finally told Harry that she was hungry and that she was going to leave. She slithered off the heated rock and made her way back to the vent that she had entered the room from. She easily nosed it open and disappeared inside, leaving Harry, once again, alone.

He relaxed back in the still-hot water and let his head rest against the tile edge. Before he'd even realize it, he had begun to doze off. He wasn't even sure how long he had been out when a ringing bell sounded in the room, jarring him awake.

Harry blinked owlishly at the room, slightly confused for a long minute as to what was going on before his fuzzy brain cleared up enough that he remembered where he was. Quickly, he grabbed his wand and the parchment that Voldemort had left for him. He did the proper focusing and quickly read through the ritual words. The moment he had completed the last word his skin began to prickle with pins and needles. It escalated into the point where it felt like his limbs had all painfully fallen asleep. It was decidedly unpleasant, but it really wasn't that bad.

The prickling spread across every surface of his body and slowly intensified until he found himself sitting there in the water stiff-backed and clenching his teeth, hands, and toes.

And then it was gone.

Harry sighed heavily feeling the sensation completely disperse and began to haul himself out of the water. His body felt heavy after having been suspended in the water for so long. To call his skin 'pruney' would be putting it mildly. His hands and feet were wrinkled up like a giant raisin and he laughed at the sight of himself. He dried off with one of the towels and then quickly got dressed. He collected all of his things and quickly left the room.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor and went straight for Voldemort's study. He knocked gently on the door before pushing it open a crack and peering inside. Voldemort was hunched over his desk again, scratching away with his quill at some large parchments. There were a few open books scattered around as well.

"It's done, I assume?" Voldemort's voice called out, breaking the silence and startling Harry.

"Yes, sir."

"Any complications?"

"None."

"Good," Voldemort said as he gracefully stood from his seat and began to stride confidently towards Harry. Harry stepped to the side as the Dark Lord walked past him through the door and began to lead the way down the stairs. Harry followed wordlessly, and was surprised when he was lead out the front doors of the manor, and into the overgrown garden of weeds and grass beyond. The two of them kept walking until they had reached an untidy hedge and Voldemort came to a stop.

"The current wards end here. Step beyond it and cast a spell with your cypress wand. I will remain on this side of the wards, so if the trace is still in place, it will not detect the presence of an adult wizard. If the spell has failed, we will know very shortly."

Harry's eyes went wide and he felt legitimate fear in the pit of his stomach. If he got a letter from the improper use of magic office, they would know he had been outside of school. How the hell would he ever explain that he had snuck out and gotten to... where ever the hell Little Hangleton was?

"Don't look so terrified, Potter. Do you honestly think I would let you do this if I had any concerns about whether or not it had worked? I simply wish to confirm it for sure."

"Er, right. Sorry," Harry muttered before taking a deep breath, stepping beyond the shrub and pulling out his cypress wand. He cast a lumos, because that seemed the easiest to get away with, if he did get caught, and then stood there and waited. His heart was hammering in his chest, no matter how much he scolded himself for being an idiot. Getting _caught_ was probably the only thing he really _was_ afraid of these days.

Several minutes passed and no owls appeared carrying howlers. Harry sighed in relief and then a very wide, triumphant grin spread across his face.

He could do magic out of school, and no one could find out. He turned back to Voldemort, who was standing beside the hedge with his arms crossed, looking poised and relaxed at the same time. He was smirking down at him with a knowing expression. He jerked his chin back towards the manor and began to walk back. Harry quickly matched his stride, still grinning widely as he walked.

"This is so brilliant," he finally said under his breath when he couldn't help it anymore.

"I vaguely recall feeling much the same way when I first performed that ritual."

"Did you do it while at Hogwarts?"

"Yes. I used the Room of Requirement."

"It can have a bath tub?" Harry asked, suddenly intrigued.

"It can have anything you need. You just have to ask the room for it when you are walking in front of it. You can also ask it to provide you with any book that is also contained in the school library and it can." He hesitated for a moment and a sly grin spread across his thin lips, "Even the ones in the restricted section. It was quite handy. It had always been such a bother convincing the professors to write me a permissions slip to gain access to it. The Room made that unnecessary."

Harry gaped at him. "For real? That's incredible!"

"Mm. Yes. It was quite a boon when I discovered it."

They climbed the steps to the manor's doors and stepped into the entry hall. Voldemort continued leading Harry down the hallway past the stairs and stopped at a door not very far from where Harry always port-key'd in at. The door seemed just as nondescript as all the rest at first glance, but Harry suddenly realized that it didn't have a doorknob.

Voldemort leaned forward and hissed _§open§,_ and suddenly there was a _click_ sound and the door popped open an inch. Voldemort pushed on the door and slipped inside. Harry followed and found that they appeared to be in a room the size of a small walk-in closet. There was absolutely nothing in the room except for a shelf on the wall opposite the door. On the shelf were two small wooden boxes with hinged lids. They were identical and looked to all the world to just be jewelery boxes.

Voldemort reached forward and opened one of them. Inside, on a thin chain-link necklace, was –

"A time-turner!" Harry gasped as his mind registered what he was looking at.

Voldemort looked back at him and smirked. "Seen one of these before, have you?"

"A friend of mine got one for her classes last year. We ended up having to use it in order to save me and Sirius from a hundred or so dementors."

Voldemort rose a single eyebrow and the look on his face told Harry that he wanted Harry to elaborate.

"Sirius and I... it was after Wormtail got away, and Professor Lupin had transformed into a werewolf, so Sirius and I were running. We ended up getting cornered at the edge of the lake and were surrounded by dementors. There were literally a hundred of them, and I thought we were doomed. But then, out of nowhere, I saw someone across the way appear in the shadows and cast a huge corporeal patronus. It drove them all away.

"In my own moronic idiocy, I convinced myself it was my dead father, because the patronus was his animagus form. But then just a bit after that, I was with that friend – Hermione – and Dumbledore basically told to her to use the time-turner... bloody hell, he even told her exactly how many hours back we needed to go... manipulative old bastard... anyway – we went back and it turned out that the shadowy figure I saw who cast the patronus was actually _me._"

Harry paused as he saw a look of mild disbelief cross Voldemort's features.

"Are you saying that _last year_ you cast a corporeal patronus, powerful enough to drive off a hundred dementors?"

Harry blinked and then ducked his head. "Er... yeah. It was one of those moments where I just _knew_ I could do it, because I'd already seen myself do it, so I just... did. I never could get my patronus to be that clear or well formed before that. I had so much trouble with it. I practiced that spell almost all year, but there at the end it just worked."

Voldemort was quiet for a long moment before he began to laugh. Harry looked up at him, slightly bewildered by the reaction, but didn't say anything.

"You are truly an oddity, Harry Potter," Voldemort said with a smirk. "Now that you are no longer fighting off the piece of my soul that exists within you, I imagine you would find it much easier to tape into that power at will. You've already told me how learning magic comes much easier to you now. I believe you've already come to the obvious conclusion on your own – all of the magical energy that you dedicated towards restraining my soul was holding you back in your magical development. Now that you are no longer doing that, you should have access to that great power whenever you want it, not just when facing off a hundred dementors."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I sort of figured that was the case. I've also tried casting a patronus recently, just to make sure I still could."

"And?"

Harry shrugged. "Easy. Still solid and corporeal. I was afraid I'd have a hard time with it now, since it's a light spell."

"It doesn't quite work that way," Voldemort said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, we are getting off track. This, as you accurately observed, is a time-turner. I am going to permit you to make use of it when you are here, but you cannot take it with you. After you have spent an evening here, you will let yourself into this room, remove the time-turner from one box," Voldemort motioned towards the open box he had just taken the time turner from, "use it to go back to the time that you arrived here, and then, at that point in the past, you will leave the time-turner in the other box. Do _not_ put the two time turners into the same box. They cannot exist beside each other at any point in time. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded his head. "Yes sir."

"Good. Once you are done, leave the room, return to the entry hall, and use the portkey to return to the castle. Problems solved. You will not have to worry about when you come here, or how long you spend here, and no one at your school will become suspicious about extended absences."

Harry looked at the time-turner, and then Voldemort with awe. "This is perfect. I... I just keep thanking you for things. You've done so much for me these last couple days. It's just so much. I don't know what to say..."

"Despite what Dumbledore and the Ministry would have everyone believe, I did not simply rule my followers through fear and torture. I treat my followers with as much respect as they earn and deserve."

"But what have I done to earn this? I'm... I'm the stupid brat who prevented you from getting the stone. I –"

"That is in the past, Potter. And while that may be true, you are also the stupid brat who willingly came to me, and offered up your body and blood in order to help my resurrection, even though you already knew I was after you, and that by coming to me, you could easily have been walking to your own funeral. Continue to prove yourself useful, and I will continue to treat you with the respect you earn from me. Fail me, or betray me, and you will _wish for death._ Do you understand me?"

Harry blinked at the man, but instead of feeling fear like he rationally knew he should, he felt a wide grin spread across his lips. He quickly nodded with odd enthusiasm. "Yes, my Lord. I understand you perfectly well."

Voldemort rose a single curious eyebrow in response to Harry's reaction.

"Good. That is all for tonight. Return tomorrow and you will continue reading the chapter on countering the _affinitatem reveleo _spell. When you feel sufficiently comfortable with it, we will practice. I imagine you will catch on quite quickly."

With that Voldemort handed the time-turner to Harry, and slipped out of the room. Harry was left feeling a bit odd with the abrupt dismissal, and stood there for a few long seconds, at a bit of a loss. Finally he shook his head clear and turned down to the time-turner. He looked at his watch and saw that it was just after 2:30am. He put the time-turner's chain around his neck and turned the tiny hour glass six times. A moment later, the world swirled around him, and was suddenly still again. Harry cast a tempus and saw that it was now 8:34pm. He took the time-turner off and put it into the second box. He looked in the first box and saw the time turner already resting there.

He wouldn't be arriving at the manor for another twenty minutes. If he used his portkey to return to the tunnel, would he run into his other self on the way? He hadn't before, so he would obviously find a way around that. He could either hang out in the manor for another twenty minutes and leave after his other self got here, or he could go and make sure he got out of the tunnel before his other self entered it. Would he have enough time for that?

He would, he decided. He left the 'closet' and made his way back to the entry hall. He hissed _§morsmordre§ _and activated the portkey, bringing himself back into the tunnel where he had departed from. He put on his invisibility cloak and ran down the tunnel at a rather quick pace. He got to the end, surprisingly fast, used the password to move the statue away from the entrance, climbed out, put it back to rights and quickly ran from the hall.

He pulled out the marauder's map and checked it. It was odd seeing two different dots marked 'Harry Potter'. He watched as his other self got to the statue and disappeared into the tunnel. Remembering that his excuse for leaving had been to visit the library, Harry figured he'd go there now just to add some validity to his story. He checked out the book Hermione had recommended and then made his way back to Gryffindor tower.

By this point, he was really _really_ tired, and wanted to just head straight to bed. But of course, to everyone else, it wasn't even 9pm yet, so going to bed this early would look decidedly odd. Harry forced himself to stay up another hour and a half, and when he did finally fall into bed just before 10:30pm, he was so exhausted that he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

– –

Tuesday morning brought History of Magic; which meant that Harry took a nap. After lunch, Harry had a single section of Potions, followed by a free period, where Hermione was in Ancient Runes, before he had to go to dinner. Now that he knew he could rely on the time-turner, Harry decided to try visiting the manor during the daylight hours instead of waiting till late at night.

After potions, Harry managed to give Ron the slip, which wasn't that hard these days since the red-head had basically come to accept that Harry would disappear at least once or twice a day and not tell him. Harry slipped on his invisibility cloak, and walked straight across the grounds and towards the path to Hogsmeade.

As soon as he felt himself leave the wards of the castle, he activated the portkey and reappeared in the entry hall of the manor. As he recovered from his temporary disorientation, he stood up straight and blinked in surprise at the man staring back at him.

Wormtail was standing – rather, he was _cowering_, in the open door way to the front of the manor. He had a several newspapers folded under his arm, and what looked like a grocery bag, in his other hand. The sight was entirely _odd, _for some reason.

The two stood there, in a tense silence for a very uncomfortable minute. Images of Sirius flitted through Harry's mind. Despite everything that had changed in Harry and his life, he still desperately wished he could clear his godfather's name.

But there was no going back now. Harry knew that. He really and truly had no choice now. If Wormtail were somehow captured by the Ministry, they would use veritaserum on him, and if _that_ happened, not only would it reveal that Voldemort had returned, earlier than he wished this to become common knowledge, but he would also tell them about Harry's involvement with said Dark Lord's resurrection.

It was a matter of self-preservation now, too. He wondered if there would be a way to _obliviate_ the last year from Wormtail's memory...

Harry shook his head and gave the short repugnant man a confident smirk.

"Wormtail," he sneered in greeting. The pudgy, balding man flinched and jerked back slightly, bumping into the door frame.

"H-h-harry," the man stuttered as he gave Harry a desperate, _pleading_ smile. "W-what brings you here so, ah... early, in the day?"

"Paying the Dark Lord a visit," Harry said dismissively before glancing down at the papers under Wormtail's arm. "I'm heading up to see him right now. I can take those with me."

Wormtail blinked in confusion for a moment before his head bent down and he looked at the papers as if he had completely forgotten they were there. Then he stiffened and straightened up some.

"That's quite all right Harry. I can take them there myself," he said as he sniffed the air a bit.

Harry almost laughed out loud at the man's poor attempt at being pompous. As it was, _someone else_, did laugh. Only it was a strange, hissing sort of chuckle.

_§Ssstupid little man...§_

Harry paused and turned just in time to see Nagini slithering down the hall towards them. Harry grinned.

_§Hello, Nagini,§_ Harry hissed to the snake, and he heard Wormtail give a tiny yelp from the doorway.

_§Greetingsss brat. Tell the fat man to get me my food or elssse I will eat him instead.§_

Harry laughed out loud and turned back to Wormtail, who was, once again, looking decidedly timid and afraid as he cowered by the door.

"She says that you are to go get her food ready or else she's going to eat you instead," Harry relayed with a wide smirk across his lips.

"W-huh?" Wormtail sputtered for a moment before he looked up at Harry with a confused expression.

Harry rolled his eyes. "She says go feed her, you idiot. She threatened to eat you if you don't hurry it up."

Wormtail gave a startled squeak and began to hurry inside the entry hall, while sticking to hugging the wall with his back and strafing sideways, always keeping his eyes trained on the enormous black snake. As Wormtail came within Harry's reach, his hand darted out and Harry grabbed the newspapers.

Wormtail gave an indignant start and glared at Harry for a moment. Harry glared right back with a sneer on his lips, and the man was instantly cowed.

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance at the stupid fat little man and turned to make his way up the stairs.

_§See you around, Nagini,§_ Harry hissed as he climbed. The sound caused Wormtail to yelp in surprise again, and both Harry and Nagini hissed out some chuckles.

Harry reached out with his magic and confirmed that Voldemort was in his study, so he quickly made his way there. He knocked lightly on the door and waited a moment.

"Come in," called the familiar voice of the Dark Lord. Harry pushed the door open, expecting to find Voldemort sitting in the chair behind his desk, but instead finding the man sitting on _the floor_ in the center of the room. He appeared to be sitting on a cushion on the floor, with his legs crossed and his arms stretched out in front of him with his wrists laying across his knees. His eyes were closed and he was breathing in slow steady breaths.

He seemed to be meditating or _something_. The way he was sitting actually reminded Harry vaguely of the exercises he had performed when learning his sea serpent transformation.

"Stop gawking Potter, you're disturbing my focus," Voldemort's voice cut through the room harshly, shocking Harry out of his stunned stupor. "Now, get in here."

"Sorry, my Lord," Harry said quickly as he took a few steps in and closed the door behind him.

Voldemort let out a slow breath and then opened his eyes, giving Harry a mildly annoyed look.

"Place the papers on the desk. You'll find the book is there as well. Begin reading where you left off," he said shortly before closing his eyes again and resuming his earlier breathing.

Harry foundered for a moment, thrown off by the unexpected turn of events, but he quickly sorted himself out and walked over to the desk. He placed the papers in the center and saw the book he had started reading a few nights ago sitting to the side. He picked it up and turned back to look around the room. Voldemort's desk chair was still the only chair in the room, and he was damn well not about to sit in it while Voldemort was sitting _on the floor._

Harry decided to sit in the same spot he had last time – directly beside the Dark Lord's chair. This put him far enough away from Voldemort's position on the floor that he hoped he wouldn't disturb his meditation.

He sat down and opened the book to where he left off. Harry felt part of himself was yearning to be closer to Voldemort, and he mentally scolded himself for being weird. Despite being a good six feet from the Dark Lord, he still quickly found himself slipping into his comfort zone in the quiet room with Voldemort's steady breaths as the only sound.

Harry lost himself in the book and the comfortable atmosphere of the room, so deeply, that he completely lost track of time. He finished the chapter on the _affinitatem _counter, but didn't want to interrupted Voldemort's meditation to informing him so, so he flipped back to the start of the chapter and started reviewing the material. He felt like he had a pretty solid handle on the theory of it, but it actually sounded like a pretty complex bit of magic. Stopping the spell from working didn't sound too difficult, but it would look suspicious. The tricky part was casting the counter magic fast enough, and with the proper focus to make the spell return a false reading.

While sitting there, Harry could feel variable waves of magic rolling off the Dark Lord. The sense of them was vaguely familiar, but Harry really had no idea what Voldemort might be doing. Harry considered asking him once he was finished, but wasn't sure if it was his business to ask such things... even if he was _insanely_ curious.

He'd gotten half-way through the chapter again before Voldemort began to stir from his spot on the floor. The man sighed and relaxed his position. Harry watched with a strange sort of fascination as Voldemort rolled his neck and then shoulders before stretching out his long slender arms. It was just such a _human _thing. Such a _normal_ thing. He was surprised, and honestly rather _honored_, that Voldemort trusted Harry enough to sit there in such a vulnerable state in his presence. It was honestly remarkable that the man could trust Harry at all, let alone _this much_. The realization startled Harry quite a bit.

Voldemort heaved a long sigh and gracefully stood to his feet. He stretched his back before turning and walking back towards his desk and Harry. Harry sat up straighter and watched as Voldemort walked right up to him, and then slid into the chair at Harry's back.

Harry waited for a moment in the continued silence, and started to wonder if he should just go back to reading when Voldemort finally spoke.

"I assume you've finished the chapter by now?"

"Yes, I finished," Harry said as he shifted around and began to push himself to his feet. His back was a bit stiff from having sat on the floor so long, and he gave it a bit of a pop as he came to stand straight.

"You said once that you only have one class on Wednesdays, correct?" Voldemort asked, catching Harry slightly by surprise. "Yeah, that's right."

"When?"

"Second block. Right before lunch."

"Good. Come right after lunch tomorrow. I'll have some something for you to read."

Harry felt suddenly that he was being dismissed and felt rather disappointed by this. He really didn't want to leave yet. Plus he'd been hoping to actually try out the _affinitatum_ counter. He couldn't do that without someone to cast the _affinitatum reveleo_ spell on him first.

"Alright, sir. I'll be here," Harry said as he began to shuffle awkwardly. He ran his hand through his hair and heaved a sigh as he bent down to pick up his bag.

"Going somewhere?" Voldemort asked as he opened the newspaper on the top of the stack and began to skim through the headlines.

"Er... I thought –" Harry started, trailing off.

"Wait a few minutes and then we can go practice what you have read," Voldemort said as he turned to another page.

Harry was surprised a bit by this, but was then flooded with relief, and he smiled widely. "Great, er... okay. I'll just wait."

Five minutes passed before Voldemort stood up and led Harry to one of the rooms that Harry had never been in before. From what Harry could tell, it might have once been a guest room, but it had been mostly emptied out. There were a few what looked like a davenport, and a couple stuffed armchairs shoved against the wall with sheets draped over them.

Voldemort instructed Harry where to stand and then walked a few feet away from him. They both drew there wands, Voldemort gave some simple instruction, and then cast the spell. Harry called forth his magic, but it took three tries before he had finally got it sorted out enough to properly block the spell. It took considerably more time before Harry was finally able to start getting faked readings to show up instead of nothing at all.

Voldemort's instructions made perfect sense though, and Harry thought that the way the Dark Lord was explaining it made a lot more sense than the book had. Harry doubted he would have had any success at all, if it weren't for the man's instruction.

Voldemort made a number of dry remarks, but he never made Harry feel weak or inferior for taking as long as he was. In fact, Harry found himself shocked at just how patient the Dark Lord was being with him.

Harry was getting pretty warn with all the precise magical focusing he'd been doing, and realized suddenly that they'd been at it for over two hours He was actually panting and he bent over with his hands on his knees.

"Sorry," Harry said between heavy breaths. "That spell takes a lot out of me."

"It should. I don't think you quite comprehend just how advanced this spell is. It's honestly extraordinary that you've come as far as you have in such a short time." Voldemort said dryly as he examined his finger nails absently.

Harry looked up at the man and felt his cheeks and the back of his neck warm slightly with mild embarrassment. Had he just been complimented?

"Er, well... yeah, thanks," Harry mumbled as he stood up straighter and ran his hand through his hair.

"Do try to not act like such an incoherent idiot, Potter," Voldemort said with a sigh and an eye roll.

Harry blinked, ducked his head and grinned. "I'll work on that."

"Do that," Voldemort said as he smirked down at Harry. "I think we should call it an evening. You'll be here tomorrow right after lunch, correct?"

"Yes, I'll be here."

"Good. Feel free to use the time-turner before you leave," Voldemort said as he turned and began to leave the room. Sensing his dismissal, Harry walked over to the wall beside the door where he had left his bag, picked it up, and headed down to the time-turner closet.

– –

Wednesday, Harry left Charms and then hurried his way through lunch. Hermione and Ron were both looking at him curiously, but didn't say anything. He knew they weren't going to put up with his continued secrets for too much longer and that he was going to have to come up with some way to address their growing concern, but he wasn't ready to deal with it yet.

He did tell Hermione that he was going to spend the afternoon trying to get another large batch of pages copied from the Old Aldric book, and that her copy should update as he goes. He figured that once he was done with his visit to the Dark Lord he could just come back and use his second go at the afternoon to do it.

Hermione seemed pleased that he was going to provide her with more to translate, since she was apparently approaching the end of what he'd already given her. She clearly wanted to inquire further about the 'room' he kept going to that had this mysterious book, but they'd had enough little spats over it already, and she tended to avoid bringing it up when they were somewhere public like the great hall.

Harry bid Ron and Hermione goodbye and quickly left. Once again he donned his cloak, slipped out across the grounds, and headed down the path towards Hogsmeade, and the boundary of the castle's wards.

Once he had arrived at Voldemort's manor house Harry instantly sought out his magical signature and headed straight to the study. He knocked on the door, and Voldemort bade him enter. He pushed the door open and, once again, found Voldemort sitting on the floor in the center of the room meditating.

Even after having encountered this yesterday, Harry still found it entirely bewildering. He silently slipped into the room and went straight over to the desk. It was bare except for a single book placed in the center, which he assumed was meant for him. None of the pages were marked on this one, but upon quick examination, he had a pretty good idea why it had been sat out. The book seemed to be written by a magical archaeologist or something. It was all about how to handle, care for, and restore ancient magical artifacts. One section was on how to properly approach ancient items that could possibly be cursed. The following two chapters were on common detection spells, and then spells for temporarily sealing nasty curses until you could get an item back into a safer environment for dismantling the curses.

The last few chapters were all about restoring exceptionally old objects, so Harry skimmed through that part until he came across something dealing with books. He quickly settled himself into 'his spot' on the floor beside Voldemort's chair, and began to read.

Voldemort's rhythmic breathing, and the subtle pulse of the Dark Lord's magic began to lull Harry into a blissful state of relaxation. He almost felt like _he_ was meditating right along with the Dark Lord, and it made him wonder, once again, just what the man was doing.

An hour passed, and by that point Harry had long sense finished reading up on the book restoration spells. He had flipped back to the curse detection chapters and found them rather interesting. The magical energy, radiating off of Voldemort had been slowly shifting and growing, and they had increased to a powerful peak without Harry even really realizing it until the intensity made his vision blur and he felt lightheaded for a moment. His eyes rolled back in his head as his whole body began to feel tingly and warm.

He realized with a sudden start that the magical type wasn't really that of dark magic so much as it was _parsel_magic. Extremely powerful parselmagic. This realization really only served to make Harry that much more curious as to what Voldemort was up to. He had really only found a couple books in the Slytherin study about parselmagic, and most of them were simpler things like a parselmagic equivalent for locking, privacy, and levitation charms. The only truly advanced book he'd found on parselmagic was the serpentine transformation book, which he hadn't really looked at much since before the second task.

The waves of powerful parselmagic in the air began to ebb and wane, and eventually died down to a simmer. Harry felt his head clearing up again and heaved a sigh as his body suddenly felt like a heavy lead weight. It had been strange and overwhelming, but now that the magic was gone, he felt a bit disappointed. Voldemort's magic was just so... _something..._ Harry couldn't really put words to it. But being near the man just made him want to be closer. Made him want _more_... whatever the hell that meant. He really wasn't sure.

Another half hour passed before Voldemort stood up and stretched. He was wearing loose, comfortable looking black pants, and a white button-down shirt intended to be worn underneath open robes, sewn in a style that Harry had only ever seen in wizard shops. Harry noticed that the top few buttons were undone, and his eyes were drawn to the bit of bare chest he caught a glimpse of. Harry didn't know why, but he blushed and looked away.

His eyes were drawn back to the man as Voldemort walked over and sat down, heavily into his chair. He leaned back, sighed, and ran his hand through his black hair. It had a soft wave to it. Just as Harry had thought, Voldemort had trimmed it several days ago. He had it slicked back slightly, out of the way of his forehead, and neat. It was layered in the back and reached the base of his neck. Harry couldn't help but stare as the Dark Lord relaxed into his chair and began to sort through a newspaper that he pulled out of one of the desk drawers. You would think that Harry wasn't even in the room by the way the man was acting, and Harry couldn't help but wonder why he'd been told to come right after lunch if all he was doing was sitting there for a couple hours while Voldemort meditated.

The idea that Voldemort would want _company_ was just too absurd to even fathom. But Harry found he desperately enjoyed being able to just sit in the quiet, comfortable room, in the Dark Lord's presence, while reading. Even if he was sitting on the floor, getting a crick in his back. The room, and the magical vibrations, and just being _near_ the man made Harry never want to leave the room, if he was being completely honest with himself. He knew that was stupid and irrational, but he also knew it was true.

Another fifteen minutes passed in silence before Voldemort stood up from his desk. "Come on Potter. Time for some more practice," He said shortly and Harry scrambled to his feet.

They only spent an hour in the 'practice' room, as Harry was now dubbing it in his mind. He was starting to make a little progress on his _affinitatem_ counter, but it was still difficult, and he could only do it if he was prepared and knew it was coming. Voldemort said that he would need to practice it enough that the moment he sensed the magic of the _reveleo_ spell incoming, that he would instinctively cast the counter. He would only have a fraction of a second to respond in a real scenario, and only repeated practice would help that happen.

"Alright Potter, that's enough for today," Voldemort said rather suddenly and Harry blinked at him in surprise as a small wave of disappointment washed over him, but he quickly squashed it.

"What is your class schedule like tomorrow?"

Again, Harry was caught off guard, but quickly recovered. "Transfiguration in the morning, then a free block, then lunch, and then double Defense, followed by dinner," Harry said quickly.

Voldemort looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can you come during your free break after transfiguration?"

Harry's jaw floundered slightly, but he nodded his head dumbly. He really didn't understand why, but he certainly didn't mind. He would have a bit of trouble getting away from Ron. Thursday's morning free period was one of the few times that Harry made it a point to try and be social with the ginger outside of meals. But all he really had to do was get away long enough to use the portkey. With the time-turner he could be back with Ron moments later and make it seem like he'd never left at all.

"I'll be here," Harry said, and even _he_ was surprised by how eager he sounded.

"Good," Voldemort said as he began to leave. "You can let yourself into the study."

"Alright," Harry said as he grabbed his bag and ran after the man.

"You can also bring one of the older books from the chamber if you would like," Voldemort said as Harry caught up to him and the two walked down the hallway. "I can help you make sure you do the charm properly and don't damage the book.

Harry nodded his head thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll do that. Any particular book I should bring?"

Voldemort sighed and rolled his eyes. "It has been many _many_ years since I was last down in the chamber, Potter. I do not remember the entire library. Just pick one and bring it."

Harry ducked his head, feeling a bit stupid for his question. "Right... I'll... do that."

"What did I say about acting like an awkward idiot?"

"To not do it?"

Voldemort turned his head and gave Harry a pointed look.

"Right. Working on that. Swear it." Harry said, trying to put a bit more confidence into his voice, and grinning a bit. Voldemort rolled his eyes.

They reached the study and Voldemort gave Harry a few parting words that made it clear he was dismissed. Harry hurried down the stairs and slipped into the time-turner closet before portkeying back to Hogwarts.

– –


	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Getting away from Ron was easy. Harry simply timed the use of the time-turner really well. As far as Ron could tell, Harry simply slipped away to use the loo, and came back a few minutes later.

In reality, he had gone to the manor and spent two and a half hours reading while Voldemort meditated on the floor. The magic had done that peaking thing again about two hours in, and Harry had found himself sitting with the open book on his lap, discarded, with his eyes closed and head leaning back against Voldemort's chair. He let his mind get lost in the delicious lull of Voldemort's magic and literally lost track of time. It wasn't until the peak in the magics decreased suddenly, that Harry was jerked out of his stupor.

The book he brought was in pretty bad condition, but it didn't seem like it would be a devastating loss if he somehow botched the spell up, so he wasn't terribly worried when the two of them finally got down to actually practicing the spell.

The first few times he tried it, the restoration seemed to be exceedingly slow. Voldemort seemed to instantly understand what Harry was doing wrong and explained it in such a way that just made it all make perfect sense.

"You would have been a brilliant teacher," Harry mused as he cast the spell on the book and it began to mend and restore itself to order.

Voldemort actually snorted. "Yes, well, tell that to the old man," he drawled.

Harry looked up at him with his brow furrowed in confusion. "Dumbledore? What do you mean?"

Voldemort paused and gave Harry a long look as if he were contemplating something.

"I applied to work as a professor at Hogwarts... many years ago. Actually, I applied twice."

Harry gaped at him, stunned by this revelation. Voldemort – _the Voldemort – _had applied to _teach_ at _Hogwarts?_

"When?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"The first time was the year after I graduated. Professor Dippet was still the Headmaster at the time, and the old Defense teacher, Professor Merrythought was retiring that year. She had thought I would be a shoe-in for the position and even personally recommended me to replace her. However Professor Dippet thought I was too young and told me to come back in a few years after having had more _life experience_," Voldemort finished with a sarcastic sneer.

"And the second time?" Harry asked eagerly. With every word Voldemort spoke, Harry felt like some ravenous monster had reared up inside him, and the monster was starving for information. These little tidbits of information about the Dark Lord's past was like gold to him, and he couldn't even rationally say why.

"The second time was about ten years later. Dumbledore had gotten the Headmaster's job by then. The man _never_ liked me. He was the only teacher I had at Hogwarts who mistrusted me. I knew there was next to no chance he would award me the position, but it had become available again and I had to try."

Harry blinked in confusion for a minute before he finally voiced the one word that just kept repeating in his mind.

"Why?"

Voldemort was quiet for some time, and Harry wondered if he would actually get an answer.

"It was the only other thing I ever wanted to do... I suppose... I suppose there was some tiny part of me that considered it as my one and only _out_." He paused in thought for a moment before smirking widely. "Ah, if only the old fool had any idea what he missed out on. He was truly convinced that the only reason I would apply for the job was as part of some larger, evil scheme. I had already begun to form the Death Eaters, you see. He was convinced I was up to something. That there was no way that I could possibly ever _want_ to teach." He scoffed humorously.

"You would have given it all up, to be a _teacher_?" Harry asked in a stunned whisper.

Again, it took an extremely long time for the man to reply, and when he did his voice was very quiet, and yet still rather sure. "I do believe I would have... just maybe." He chuckled. "But I am also a very bitter man, so of course, once he denied me the job, I cursed it."

Voldemort said this in a very flippant way and it took Harry a moment to register what had been said.

"Wait... you mean that _your_ the reason that we've never had a defense teacher last more than a year?" Harry guffawed.

Voldemort looked down at Harry with his nose turned up again, and a sly grin on his face.

"Maybe," he drawled.

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Do you have any idea how much that has sucked? I mean, aside from the dark arts, defense is my favorite subject, but aside from bloody _Barty_, all my teachers have been rubbish. Well, Lupin was good, but he really only taught us about defending ourselves from dark _creatures_, not really anything about the nature of dark magic.

"Ah yes, Barty... I am going to have to figure out what to do about that situation..."

"What do you mean?"

"If he sticks around long enough to return to teach a second year, Dumbledore will get exceedingly suspicious. After all, only someone of whom I approved, could make it past my little curse. Dumbledore will be expecting something to go wrong with 'Moody', or at the very least, for the ex-auror to refuse to come back a second year. I doubt that we can maintain Barty's cover for much longer than the school year anyway. Obviously we cannot risk the _real_ Moody getting away either."

"So he _is_ still alive? I've seen his name on the map, but he's always inside Barty's office. I've been in there had haven't seen anyone."

"I believe Barty is keeping him locked up inside a trunk. One with a very large space expansion charm on it."

Harry blinked. "The real Moody is locked up in a _trunk?_ And he's been there the whole year?"

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "Yes, marvelous isn't it."

"Why not just shave his head and off him? Seems like keeping him alive just for Polyjuice ingredients is a bit risky."

"Yes, but there have been a few incidents where he was necessary for Barty to bring him out, under the _Imperius_ curse, to take care of a few tasks.

"Oh..." Harry said before shrugging and moving on. "So Barty won't be coming back to teach next year?"

"It would look too suspicious," Voldemort said, waving his hand dismissively.

Harry sighed and his lip stuck out a bit in a pout. Voldemort gave him a strange look that made Harry quickly stop and clear his throat; suddenly feeling awkward.

"I wonder what idiot we're going to end up with instead," Harry mused. "I just hope that, whoever it is, isn't as big an idiot as Lockhart was..." Harry paused for a moment before he began to laugh. Voldemort gave him an odd look and waited for Harry's giggles to subside.

"Care to explain what was so funny?"

"I was just thinking about how hilarious it would be if you somehow managed to sneak in as the Defense professor for next year. I mean, you already suck in on the back of Quirrell's head one year, and you got one of your Death Eaters in _this_ year... it would just really be a laugh if you could put one over on Dumbledore so much that _you_ actually got the job for next year.

Voldemort chuckled and rolled his yes. "Yes, that would be humorous, but I'm afraid that I will be much, _much_ too busy. No matter how badly I would enjoy making Dumbledore look the fool for it, teaching is no longer on my list of goals. I have commitments to address, and a war to renew."

Harry sobered up and nodded his head. "Yeah, you do."

"Although it certainly wouldn't hurt to try and engineer who takes up the post for next year," Voldemort mused.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind, as long as you find someone who actually knows what they're talking about. Barty's been brilliant, even if he is trying to act like an insane auror at the same time."

– –

Harry's class load was completely full on Fridays, so he had no real opportunity to slip away for another afternoon visit to Voldemort. He only had a few minutes between classes, and no decent opportunities during that time to give Ron and Hermione the slip, since he shared every class with both of them.

When Harry visited that evening, Voldemort was sitting at his desk, scratching away on some parchment. Harry slipped in, realizing suddenly that he didn't actually have any reason to come that night. He hadn't even been told to come to practice the _affinitatem_ counter. He had just gotten into the habit of coming every day, that it felt like he just _should_ go.

Just as this was going through his mind, and he was suddenly feeling nervous about even being there, now that he realized he had no valid excuse for it, Voldemort interrupted his musings and handed him a book. Harry blinked at it, and then grinned. Not because of the book or anything it contained, but at the fact that he had an excuse to stay.

He easily slid down onto the floor, sitting beside Voldemort's chair and relaxing against it. Being literally inches away from the man seemed to ease the tension that seemed ever present in his body whenever he was close to Voldemort, but not quite _close enough._

He found himself feeling utterly relaxed and just happy to be there. The book was interesting too, but he often found his attention drifting off as he let the feel of the man's magic that always lingered in the air around him, as it lingered around _Harry_.

Voldemort heaved a small sigh and pulled out his wand. A simple flick in the air and a moment later a book sailed across the room and into his hands. Voldemort leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg casually over the other knee and let the book fall open in his lap. The two just sat there in the comfortable silence of the room, reading for at least another hour. Harry felt his eyelids growing heavy and caught his head lulling to the side several times before he would jerk himself back awake.

It was one such moment, when his head was falling just a bit towards the right, and his eyes were slowly closing when he felt Voldemort's left hand drape down over the arm rest behind his head, and the gentle, _almost there_, brush of fingers in his hair. In his half-dozed state, Harry almost convinced himself that he had imagined it until the fingers brushed through his hair again, but deeper. Three of the long slender fingers seemed to comb lazily through his black nest of hair again and again. They threaded deeper into his hair as more minutes passed, gently brushing his messy locks. Harry's book lay utterly forgotten in his lap as he leaned his head back against the chair and held his eyes closed against the utterly wonderful, foreign, and confusing experience. He could feel the most indescribable magical sensation, each time the man's fingertips brushed against his scalp. It was like some unnameable force had been calling to him. _Pulling_ at him with great strength, and that pull had been calmed suddenly by the touch. Like _this_ was what he was being pulled to, and now that he was here, everything was right.

A tiny irritating voice in the back of his head pointed out that he was currently sitting on the floor beside the Dark Lord's chair letting the man _pet him_, and that this should somehow be humiliating or something, but the rest of him squashed that voice with a violent force. He was enjoying the amazing, comforting _touch_ too much to give a damn if he was being 'pet' or not. Besides it was the Dark Lord who was doing it. The Dark Lord could do whatever he damn well pleased to Harry and he would accept it openly... as long as it didn't mean dying. He still didn't want to die by the man's hands, but he readily acknowledged that, outside of death, he would probably do just about anything for the man. And what was happening at that moment was in no way a bad thing for Harry. In fact, Harry felt that the world was more _right_ at that moment than he could ever clearly recall. Voldemort was _touching _him, and it felt intimate and caring, and simple, and _right._

Harry never wanted it to end...

He had no idea how long he sat there with his eyes closed just reveling in the sensation, but at some point he must have actually dozed off. He came to with a start as the fingers left his hair and Voldemort shifted in his chair as he set the book aside.

"Come on, Harry. You should head back. You'll end up sore if you sleep against my chair like that," Voldemort said as he stood to his feet and offered his hand to help Harry stand up.

Harry blinked at the hand, still trying to clear his fuzzy head.

_Did Voldemort just call him Harry? Had he ever done that before?_

Harry shook his head, gave Voldemort a weak, sheepish grin, and took the offered hand. The touch was... _indescribable._ Harry's breath caught in his throat and he had to fight to keep his eyes open as a powerful energy curled up inside him and tingled through every limb. He almost thought he heard Voldemort's breath catch, but it was too quiet to be sure. Harry stood to his feet and reluctantly released the other man's hand.

"Thanks," he said, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment. "Sorry about passing out like that."

Voldemort seemed to be pointedly looking away before he seemed to recover from something and looked back at Harry. "It's fine. You should head back to the castle."

"Right..." Harry said, nodding his head and quickly gathering his bag up. Harry quickly made his way to the door and pulled it open to make his way out.

"Goodnight, Potter," called the soft, smooth voice of Voldemort.

Harry gave a bit of a start and looked back at the Dark Lord with a startled expression, but Voldemort had already turned his attention back to something on his desk and was no longer looking his way.

"Goodnight," Harry replied hesitantly. His dismissals had always been abrupt before. It was the first time that Voldemort had actually said _goodnight_ to him. He wasn't even sure why, but this felt... important, somehow. But of course, the Dark Lord had slipped back into using his family name again. He wondered if the man even realized he'd called him Harry at all.

– –

Harry returned after lunch on both Saturday and Sunday. Just like the previous early afternoon sessions, he arrived to find Voldemort meditating on the floor. Voldemort had a book ready for him sitting on the desk and Harry had simply picked it up and taken his usual spot on the floor beside the chair.

Voldemort's parselmagic swirled and peaked and Harry sat there letting himself get lost in it. After an hour or two, Voldemort had stopped and migrated to his desk where he began to read, or began to scratch away at some parchment. Harry kept relaxing and reading. He finished the reading that Voldemort had left for him on Sunday, and switched over to his reading for Charms class instead. They didn't do any practical work either days. No practicing the _affinitatum_ counter or repairing old books. They just read and sat enjoying the quiet company. Or at least, Harry sat there enjoying the company. He was still rather bewildered as to why Voldemort would want him there since there really seemed to be no reasonable explanation for it.

Sunday afternoon, after Harry had been reading in Voldemort's study for several hours, Voldemort spoke suddenly, startling Harry out of his relaxed stupor.

"Potter?"

Harry jumped slightly at the sudden break in the silence. "Yeah?"

"What is your class schedule like tomorrow?"

"Oh... well, Mondays are pretty full. First block is Herbology, second block is Care of Magical Creatures, then lunch, and then my last two blocks are Divination. I'm going to make another attempt at getting into Trelawney's head. I slipped in last Monday but couldn't find anything. Anyway, after Divination is dinner. Mondays and Fridays are the only days that I don't have any free blocks."

Voldemort nodded slowly and Harry was surprised to see a mild scowl flit across the man's face for a moment before it disappeared.

"As long as you use the time-turner, you can still come here after lunch and return without missing any classes. I would like you to try and come again tomorrow directly after lunch. Can you do that?"

Harry stared at the man with a rather bewildered expression, but quickly snapped his mouth shut and nodded. "Yes, sure. I'll be here." Harry hesitated at this point. He was absolutely _dying_ to ask why. He really enjoyed the time he spent in the study, so he certainly didn't _mind_ being asked to come every day after lunch, but he was still incredibly confused as to why Voldemort would actually want him there.

"Um... sir?" Harry began, hesitantly.

"What did I say about being awkward and stupid?" Voldemort said without looking up from his book.

Harry halted a bit, not having expected that. He quickly mustered up his courage and tried to press on. "I'd like to ask a question," Harry said with a bit more confidence than he actually felt.

"Ask away," Voldemort said, still not bothering to look up from what he was reading.

"Why do you want me here while you meditate?"

"Do you mind being here?"

"No! Not at all!" Harry replied, quickly. "I really like it, to be perfectly honest."

"Then, what does it matter?"

Harry went to open his mouth, but shut it again, rethinking what he wanted to ask next.

"I'd like to ask another question," Harry said after a brief pause.

"Proceed."

"What are you working on... with the meditation, I mean?"

"What do you think it is?" Voldemort said, closing the book and setting it down on the desk in front of him.

"I... well, I can tell it's some sort of parselmagic. The meditation that you're doing reminds me a bit of the work I did when I was learning to transform into the sea snake while preparing for the second task, but it's not quite the same as that..."

"Hm," Voldemort made a small, amused-sounding noise. "You're actually quite close. Tell me something, Potter – are you at all familiar with what I _looked _like, during the last war? The face that people associated with the name _Lord Voldemort_?"

Harry sat forward a bit and turned his head so he could look up at the Dark Lord who was still sitting in his chair and now looking down at Harry. The man he saw there was attractive. Healthy skin tone, although perhaps a tad on the pale side. Shiny, slightly wavy black hair, slicked back, straight, defined nose, and a sharp, angular jaw. He was really a very attractive man, and Harry was not ashamed at all to admit that thought in his mind. Tom Riddle had been a very striking teenager, and he had only grown into an exceedingly fine looking man. It was obvious to Harry that this man was the adult version of the boy he had seen in the diary in his second year, so the question left him rather confused. Was he suggesting that he _didn't_ look like this when his last body was destroyed?

"I guess I _don't_ know, actually," Harry said, looking up at the man with a blank expression.

"I did _not_ look like this. Not exactly. There is another transformation that we, as wielders of parselmagic, are able to learn. The transformation allows us to take on certain serpentine qualities while maintaining a humanoid body. I mastered this transformation, and always used that form while dealing with my Death Eaters. I am simply going through the motions of teaching my new body to perform it as well."

Harry puzzled over this information for a moment before he felt like he knew what he wanted to ask next. "Does the transformation give you advanced skills and abilities?"

"There are some mild enhancements, but they are not the real reason that I did it."

"What is the _real_ reason?" Harry asked easily.

"Fear and control. The simple fact of the matter is that many of my followers are far too proud to ever be subservient to a 'mere man'. In order to obtain and secure their loyalties, they had to see me as something more than that. More than just a powerful wizard."

"But you are more. You're the _Dark Lord!_" Harry insisted as if it were the most obvious thing.

Voldemort looked down at Harry with a curious expression for a moment before smirking slightly.

"Yes, but most wizards alive today are unaware of what that really _means_. Most assume it is merely a title I have appointed myself out of arrogance. In order to easily secure the belief of my lesser followers that I am far more than _just a man_, I performed the transformation."

"I assume you must look pretty damned intimidating in it then?" Harry said with a grin.

Voldemort raised his chin a big and returned a sly smirk. "Quite."

Harry chuckled.

Voldemort seemed to ponder something for a moment after that, and Harry began to think that the discussion on it was over unless he came up with another question.

"My original plan, for restoring my body would have returned me directly to _that form," _Voldemort said suddenly, catching Harry by surprise.

"It would have? Then why didn't you do it?"

"Because I would have been _trapped_ in that form. With the original resurrection ritual that I had planned, my body would not have been capable of performing the serpentine transformations. I had to chose between returning to my true body," a this, he waved his hand, indicating himself, "or returning in the body in the already transformed state. I was not fond of this restriction, but at the time it seemed I had little other choice and had been willing to sacrifice my true form in order to maintain control over my followers."

Voldemort paused again, and Harry used that moment to truly process what had just been said.

"When you agreed to participate voluntarily, you provided me with the ability to restore my _true_ body, and the ability to perform the transformation. I still have to retrain myself, but it is proceeding faster than I had anticipated it would. Once I have successfully trained my body to do the transformation again, I will be calling the Death Eaters to me again."

"That's why you haven't called any of them back to you yet," Harry said, suddenly understanding it. "Even though you're powerful enough that they don't pose a threat to you now, you're waiting until you can look like the 'old you'. Right?"

"Correct. With several of the more prominent wizards who were my followers, if they were to see me like this," again, he waved his hand, indicating his current body, "they would think me nothing more than a weak, mortal, wizard. Defeated by an infant, and left weakened over a decade of years. They could easily refuse to follow me, or even be idiotic enough to challenge my claim as their Lord. I am unwilling to risk showing any sign of weakness."

Harry nodded his head as he finally felt like he understood why the others hadn't been called back yet.

"So how goes the progress on the transformation, then?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling rather eager.

"Surprisingly well," Voldemort mused with a strange grin on his face.

"Does my being here help, somehow?" Harry asked suddenly.

Voldemort looked down at him, with a mildly surprised expression for a moment before he sighed. "As a matter of fact, it does."

"That's why you keep asking me to be here while you meditate?" Harry asked, rhetorically.

"Correct, Potter."

"I wonder why my being here helps..." Harry mused quietly as he looked out across the room, unseeingly.

Voldemort didn't reply right away, and the room lulled back into silence.

"Why, indeed," Voldemort said in a quiet whisper some long minutes later. Harry didn't know what to make of it, and remained silent.

Voldemort didn't speak on the subject again that visit.

– –

Voldemort sat in his office chair, late that night, looking over map of the Riddle Manor estate and his plans for the next layer of wards. He had already laid out the first two layers, but they required some time to settle before applying the next, or else the two would unstable.

Potter had left an hour earlier and he was finding it difficult to concentrate clearly, now that he was sitting in the room alone. It was an entirely irrational and idiotic fact. But fact it remained.

Harry Potter's presence made him feel... better. Or something. More calm? Content? He rarely felt _calm or content_. They were not natural states for him. They never had been. Well, certainly not content. He could do calm, when needed.

Whenever Potter entered the manor he could instantly feel the boy's presence. He always knew the moment Potter had portkeyed in, even without the wards notifying him. Potter's magic was wild and utterly untamed. It was like a constantly blazing fire that roared and crackled around him. He really needed to teach the boy to harness and control his magic better. It was no wonder he was effected so strongly by using his magic. So much of the boy's magic had been set aside and reserved to the task of fighting against Voldemort's horcrux that Potter had never become accustomed to controlling and managing his enormous stores of magic. Having it all suddenly available to him, all at once, had probably left him overwhelmed by it.

That much magic, without the gradual build-up that would have normally come with growth and aging, suddenly thrust upon a person, would be _intense_. He needed to train Potter to control his magic, or else it would simply control _him_ instead.

Voldemort also acknowledged that some part in the back of his mind liked this idea even more because it gave him another excuse to keep the boy coming back regularly, and Voldemort scolded himself for the fact. He was being utterly absurd.

But there was undeniably something more to what he was experiencing that he could quite put his finger on. Best he could figure was that it was related to the boy being a horcrux. He felt the most inexplicable _draw_ to Potter. He was drawn to the boy's magic, but also to his presence. As soon as he could feel the boy within the manor, it was as if his very body yearned for Potter to be closer, and when Potter was gone, he missed having his company around. Voldemort had never _desired company_. It just wasn't how he operated. He _liked_ being alone! But during the ritual that stripped away the Ministry's magical trace, it had been literally _physically uncomfortable_ to stay so far away from Potter, while he was so close by.

It was utterly ridiculous, and he was practically furious with himself for feeling such irrational things so strongly. It wasn't like him at all.

He had felt it, mildly, before the resurrection ritual, but it had become even stronger after. He wasn't sure if this was because he was now in a fully functional human body and was better in sync with his magic now, or if it was because they now shared a blood bond and it had managed to magnify whatever connection they had had before the ritual.

There was no question that the two of them were strongly tied together. Voldemort possessed Potter's blood, while Potter possessed a piece of Voldemort's soul. They were, quite literally, _bound_ together. It was because of this fact alone that Voldemort had allowed himself to keep exploring this strange magnetic pull he felt towards Harry Potter.

He had been pointedly ignoring it until Potter had gone and shown up early that one day while he was performing his transformation meditations.

He had felt Potter enter the manor, as he always did. Had it been anyone else who had come and knocked on his study door while he performed the meditation, he would have ignored them, or sent them away instantly. He _never_ would have allowed them to enter the room. To interrupt his work. To _distract him._ And he absolutely _never_ would have allowed anyone else to _stay in the room_ while he sat there on the floor, so utterly vulnerable.

And yet the moment Potter had knocked on the door, Voldemort hadn't even hesitated to call him into the room.

In his meditated state of mind, his more baser instincts took control and he could already sense how much calmer he felt as the boy drew closer, and how much easier he was finding it to slip to his center and call forth the needed type of parselmagic.

He had expected as many as two months of daily meditation before he would achieve the full transformation, but with Potter's company, he was progressing much faster. He suspected he would have it completed in another two weeks at most, at the rate he was going.

This was another reason he had allowed himself to continue pursuing and investigating the strange magic that existed between he and the boy. But he knew it was just an excuse. Teaching him. Talking with him, casually. Sitting in the study and reading... There was no value in the two of them sitting there reading. But he was... what? Enjoying the company? How ludicrous. Part of him knew that as soon as he was done with his meditation exercises that he should have just kicked the boy out and be done with it. And yet he didn't want to.

Potter himself was a bit of an enigma. There were times when he had the most surprising confidence about him when in Voldemort's presence. Like he felt safe and comfortable enough to play at being cocky. Even the proudest members of his Death Eaters had still always remained cowed in his presence. Of course, he never allowed them so much leeway, or to see him in his true human form like he was with the boy. Perhaps Potter just wasn't properly intimidated?

But no... that couldn't be it, because Potter had _come to him_ with that cocky attitude. With that irrational confident air about him. While Voldemort was still in his homunculus. Admittedly, not the most intimidating form he had ever assumed, but still not one to instill a sense of calm, either.

Despite Potter's occasional displays of confidence, Voldemort could tell it was somewhat put on. Potter was still hesitant and unsure of himself much of the time. Stupid awkward teenagers. But he was allowing Voldemort to act as a guiding figure, and he was soaking up every bit of information the Dark Lord offered him. Despite his guises, the boy was an open book, and it was blatantly clear to Voldemort that Potter was enjoying their time spent together in an equally bewildering way.

Did Potter have any idea why they were getting pulled together? He highly doubted it. Potter seemed to just roll with whatever life threw at him, and he did it quite smoothly. Very adaptable, that one... But he supposed that given the life the boy had been forced to live, it was understandable.

However awkward, or cocky, or _like a teenager,_ the boy acted at times, Voldemort couldn't find it in himself to dislike Harry Potter. He was respectful enough, he was extremely eager to learn, had so far proven himself to be very useful, and...

Voldemort sighed... he was spending too much time thinking about _bloody Harry Potter_, lately. But he was still in a holding pattern until he had his transformation complete.

The most disturbing thing, he had to admit, related back to Potter being present during his meditations, was that while It was true that the boy's presence was speeding up his progress, and this was almost valuable enough to nullify any risk in allowing him to remain in the room while Voldemort sat there in such an utterly vulnerable state. But what was truly odd was that Voldemort didn't feel _at all_ vulnerable during those times. He didn't feel like there was _any risk_. There was no fear or paranoia that Harry Potter would take advantage of his weaker state, or lowered guard. He _trusted_ the boy to behave.

He never trusted _anyone_. He never had.

Never.

The only thing he had ever trusted at all, was probably _Nagini._ And he trusted her because he knew she _couldn't_ betray him. She was literally incapable of it. She was only a snake, after all. She was a lesser creature, and she would never have any hope of fighting against the much stronger and far more powerful will of his horcrux within her. She could never go against his will. It simply wasn't possible. And so she was utterly loyal to him, and always would be.

But the same couldn't be true for Potter, could it?

He knew it wasn't the same. Potter was a wizard. And not just some common weakling either. He was a powerful, intelligent, and cunning wizard. Barty had told him about the incident at the start of the year where Potter had thrown off the _Imperius_ curse, and that had been _before_ the boy had stopped wasting all of his magic, fighting against Voldemort's horcrux.

So no... the probability was that if Potter wanted to, Voldemort had no doubt that the boy _could_ go against him. He was not so deeply under Voldemort's control that he would be unable to betray him.

So why did he feel as if he could trust the boy?

It was dangerous. Trust was probably the most dangerous mistake he could ever make. He knew that. He had _always_ known that. Never fully trust anyone. Always keep your eyes open, and your back guarded.

And yet he had so easily let his guard down around the boy, again and again. What the hell was wrong with him? He had to be out of his mind to be allowing himself to slip so badly. To so easily commit such enormous potential mistakes. It would surely come back to bite him in the ass at some point.

Allowing himself to _enjoy_ the boy's company. To actually _look forward _to him showing up each day. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Had he managed to form some deeper magical bond between the two of them with his blood ritual, without even meaning to?

He had to admit, in retrospect, that he hadn't entirely taken that into account.

He pushed himself away from his desk and groaned slightly in frustration.

_Bloody hell, he was wishing that Potter was still there..._

He growled at himself in annoyance. He was acting idiotic. He got to his feet and walked across the room to a cabinet and opened it up to reveal some bottles of cognac. He pulled out his wand and conjured a snifter glass and quickly poured some of the liquor into the glass. He swirled it around and slowly drank from the large glass as he strolled about the room, lost in his thoughts.

What _was_ he going to do about Potter? He found himself actually _hoping_ that the boy would choose to stay with him during the summer, and he wasn't sure how exactly he felt about that. Would the boy be a distraction, or could he be made useful? And what of the Death Eaters? The more people who knew of Potter's allegiances, the riskier things became. They absolutely could _not_ risk Dumbledore discovering what was happening.

He was sure he could convince Potter to assume a disguise of some sort while he was in the manor, once the other Death Eaters began to frequent the place. But his Death Eaters would expect him to do _something_ about _Harry Potter_. There were some in the lower ranks who might even be stupid enough to try and go after Potter in hopes that their actions would garner them praise, respect, or rewards from their Lord. That could pose to be a real nuisance.

And if Voldemort appeared to be ignoring Potter all together, or ordered them to all leave him be without providing sufficient rational _why_, Voldemort could be seen as weak, or even _fearful_ of the Boy-Who-Lived, and he absolutely couldn't have that.

He suspected that he was going to have to tell his inner circle, at least, about Potter's allegiances, but he would have to be careful how he revealed it. He would need to spend some time with his old followers to gauge their reliability first. He had been gone an awfully long time, and many of them had moved on to positions of wealth and power. Those with wealth and power were useful to him, however, they had much to lose too. They would be less willing to risk their lives and their livelihoods for him.

He heaved a heavy sigh and set his now-empty glass down on his desk. He would think on it later. For now, he decided to go relax in the bath and clear his mind. He was getting nothing done anyway.

– –

Harry slipped away from Ron right after lunch before Divination, by running off to 'use the loo' real fast. He ducked into an alcove, pulled on his invisibility cloak and activated the map. Just as he was slipping out the front door of the castle, he saw a second dot with the name 'Harry Potter' moving back into the bathroom he had just vacated a few moments ago, and then walking back out to join the dot labeled 'Ron Weasley'. Harry grinned to himself, satisfied that he wasn't going to have any trouble, all thanks to the time-turner, and he quickly made his way across the grounds and towards the path to Hogsmeade.

He spent a total of three hours at Voldemort's manor house that day. For a little over an hour and forty-five minutes, Voldemort sat in the center of the room, working on his meditation while Harry worked on the essay that Professor Sprout had assigned that morning in Herbology. Once he was done with his meditations, Voldemort sat down in his desk chair and pulled forward the newspapers that Harry assumed Wormtail had collected for him.

A half an hour later, Harry was suddenly startled by the feeling on long slender fingers threading into his hair. A wide smile spread across his face instantly at the familiar, gentle touch, and he sighed easily as he leaned back against the chair and turned his head to the side a bit, allowing the Dark Lord a better angle with which to play with Harry's hair.

Voldemort's ministrations continued for quite a while, and Harry just sat there, enjoying it far more than he thought he should. Voldemort was allowing his fingers to deeply comb through Harry's messy raven hair, and he gently dragged his fingertips against Harry's scalp, massaging it and bringing forth little keening noises from the back of his throat.

Harry was startled out of his drunken haze by the sound of Voldemort's deep, smooth, chuckles.

"Enjoying this, are you?" He asked with amusement in his voice.

Harry instantly felt a blush cover his face and neck, and for a moment he simply had no idea how to respond. Finally he decided that there really was no reason at all to lie or try to save face. He _had_ just sat there for who-knows-how-long getting _pet._

"As a matter of fact, I am," Harry said in as confident a tone as he could manage, considering what he was admitting to, and _who_ he was admitting it to.

"Cocky brat," Voldemort said with a low quiet chuckle and went right back to rubbing circles into Harry's scalp with his fingers.

Another few minutes passed in silence. At first Harry felt himself remain fairly tense, since he was wondering if Voldemort would make anymore comments on how fundamentally weird what they were doing was, but he didn't. Finally Harry began to melt back into a state of hazy relaxation. He found he never could stay tense or uncomfortable for very long when he was this close to Voldemort. He couldn't possibly explain why, it just was.

As best as Harry could figure, it had to have something to do with the fact that the man felt so similar to what Harry felt from the piece of his soul that resided within him. He was so accustomed to turning to his companion to relax and escape from everything, that it just felt natural to do that around Voldemort.

This explained why _Harry_ felt so comfortable around Voldemort, but it didn't explain to him why Voldemort would be putting up with it, let alone reciprocating in the way he was by playing with Harry's hair. But Harry didn't want to question it. He realized that he had been almost terrified to even _think_ about the event a few nights prior when Voldemort had first done it. Afraid that if it was spoken of, it would break the spell and it would never happen again.

And yet, Voldemort had done just that and yet the spell hadn't been broken. He was still playing with Harry's hair as if nothing were odd. Then tiny fear and tension that had remained in Harry dissolved away now that the strange thing they were doing had been vaguely acknowledged, and yet _not stopped_. He still didn't understand it, but at least they had both admitted it was happening and that neither was going to make the move to stop it.

Harry grinned wider as he let out a slow, satisfied sigh, followed instantly by an appreciative hum as Voldemort's long fingers trailed down to the nape of his neck and back up again.

All too soon, it had to come to an end. Harry heaved a sigh and stood to his feet, stretching out his back before bending back over and picking up his bag.

He bid the Dark Lord goodbye, and his farewell was returned, making him grin to himself.

Harry used the time-turner, returned to the school and slipped back into the bathroom under his invisibility cloak, exiting only a minute after he had originally entered the bathroom, several hours earlier. He and Ron then quickly trudged their way up to the tower for their Divination class.

– –

"That woman is _infuriating!"_ Harry growled as he strode into Voldemort's study and instantly plopped himself down onto the floor beside Voldemort's chair. The Dark Lord leaned back and twisted in his chair to look down at Harry with mild amusement.

"Is that so?" Voldemort asked dryly.

"YES!" Harry all but yelled. "She is SUCH A HACK! And it just _pisses me off_ that it's because of _her_ that so much insane shit has happened to me! I sit there choking in that damned incense-filled tower and all I can think about is how badly I wish I could just curse her into oblivion! She just won't leave me be! Like it's not bad enough that she managed to make some crazed prophecy before I was even born, and get you and Dumbledore on my back, but every bloody week in class she has to pick me out and _prophecize_ some new horrible way in which I will meet my gruesome and grizzly end. She just... _URGH!_"

"Are you done yet?" Voldemort asked flatly after a few minutes passed while Harry sat there stewing in his own frustration.

Harry mumbled something under his breath before heaving a sign and leaning back against the chair. "Yeah," he grumbled.

"Good. Did you get another opportunity to try and read her mind?"

"Yes, a couple times actually. And I got nothing. I keep trying to sift through the memories using different keywords or images, but I couldn't find a thing."

"What sorts of things were you looking for?" Voldemort said, leaning back in his chair and letting his left hand drape down over the armrest and instantly intertwining his fingers into Harry's hair.

Harry felt the effects instantly and visibly relaxed. "Uh... the bits of the prophecy that we _do_ know... _dark lord, vanquish_... I tried searching for any memories about job interviews, and I did manage to come up with a flash of something, but it didn't seem quite right and then it was gone."

"In what way did it not 'seem quite right?" Voldemort asked.

"Well, you mentioned before that the thing was overheard while she was doing a job interview with Dumbledore, and that it took place at the Hog's Head, right?"

"Correct."

"Well, I got a glimpse of a job interview with Dumbledore, but they weren't at the pub, they were up in his office. It was like the job interview had just started and suddenly it got all hazy and cloudy, and suddenly it went white."

Voldemort's fingers paused in Harry's hair. "It went _white?_"

"Yeah... does that mean something?" Harry asked, turning his head to look up over his shoulder.

"I often see altered, suppressed, or obliviated memories get hazy just before turning white..." Voldemort said in a low, contemplative voice.

"Obliviated memories?" Harry echoed with interest.

"Yes... curious. And it was at the start of the interview, you say? But not in the pub, in Dumbledore's office?"

"Yeah. She had just entered his office and he greeted her and thanked her for coming. She blathered on about the honor and how her great grandmum was some great seer or something. She sat down in the chair opposite his desk and they were just about to get down to things when it got all cloudy."

"Very curious..."

Harry sat there waiting patiently through a long silence. Voldemort's fingers resumed their ministrations in his hair and he began to melt into a thick relaxed state.

"I want you to try something next time you get to look into her mind," Voldemort suddenly said, causing Harry to jerk out of his stupor.

"Sure, what should I do?" Harry asked eagerly.

"You said you witnessed one of her other _real_ prophecies. It is likely that all of the legitimate prophecies she makes are stored in the same place in her subconscious. Try searching for the memory that you personally witnessed and then look for others around it that are related to it. That might give you better results.

Harry nodded thoughtful as he considered this. "Alright. Sounds worth a try. What do you think is up with Trelawney's memories being tampered with?"

"I cannot say at this point. We need more information."

"Alright. I'll keep digging."

"Good."

Harry nodded his head and eased back against the chair and Voldemort easily resumed petting Harry's hair.

"I didn't expect you to come back again tonight, and certainly not so soon. You realize that you really only just left about twenty minutes before you returned because of the time difference?" Voldemort said after a few silent minutes passed.

"Is that alright? I don't want to be a bother." Harry asked hesitantly. When he had left Divination he had been in such a state that all he could think of was how badly he wanted to be back at the manor that he'd slipped away at the first opportunity he'd had and gone straight there.

"You're not a bother, Potter." Voldemort said dismissively. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Er, no, I haven't. Came here right after class," Harry replied, slightly confused.

"Mixey!" Voldemort called out, causing Harry to sit up straighter in even greater confusion. A second later there was a _pop!_ and a small wrinkled house elf appeared in the room. Harry blinked at her with owlish eyes.

"Mixey, Harry will be joining me for dinner. Set a place for him at the table," Voldemort said easily.

"Yes, Master," the house elf said in a timid voice before bowing down so low that her huge floppy ears brushed the floor and then disappearing with another _pop._

"You got a house elf," Harry observed with surprise, while also reeling from the fact that he had just been referred to by his first name again.

"Yes," Voldemort drawled easily. "I completed the magical contract and acquired her two days ago. She seems to be working out so far. Undeniably a better cook than _Wormtail_ ever was. Plus I can send her to Diagon Alley to fetch things for me. I could never risk that with Wormtail, lest he be recognized."

"Well that makes sense... you know, I don't even know how one goes about getting a house elf."

"You can often buy their magical contracts through Gringotts. The bank attains control when an estate goes without an heir, or the heir does not desire to claim the house-elf's contract. Wizarding families also often sell them off when their services are no longer needed, or desired. In those cases, it's just a matter of knowing who to contact to find whats available. Mixey, I believe, came from some old witch who died a number of months ago and had no children or heirs. She's been without a master ever since. I acquired her through the goblins."

"You, as in _you personally_? Like... _you_ went to Gringotts, or did you just arrange it by owl?" Harry asked, his own curiosity preventing him from holding back the questions.

"I did the initial arrangements by owl, but I did have to go in person to finalize the contract. But I needed to visit the bank anyway to sort some things out with my old vault."

Harry twisted around and looked up at Voldemort with a dropped jaw. "_You_ went to Diagon Alley, _in person?_"

Voldemort smirked. "I did. I used a few minor glamors, but not much."

"The Dark Lord Voldemort went strolling through Diagon Alley and visited Gringotts bank and no one was any the wiser..." Harry said slowly before beginning to chuckle. "Why do I find that so funny?"

"Because the fools would be in an utter panic if they knew?"

Harry laughed and nodded his head. "Yes, that's why. You're right." He chuckled and then went quiet. "Do the goblins know who you are? You said you had to sort things out with your old vault? It's all still there?"

"The goblins have special spells that detect when one of their customers is dead. The spells never said I was dead, so my accounts were never closed. My account manager informed me that both Dumbledore and the Ministry made numerous attempts to seize control of my vault and it's contents, but the Goblins are a neutral party and have no loyalty to either the Ministry or Dumbledore. Their loyalty is solely to their customers' gold. I have to admit, I'm impressed by their actions. They easily could have saved themselves a lot of grief by simply handing my things over.

"I'm also sure that Dumbledore found it exceedingly interesting that the goblin's spells stated I was not dead," Voldemort continued with a wide grin. Harry chuckled.

"I'm sure he did..."

"In any case, the account is under my... real name, but the goblins are aware enough to know who I am."

"Aren't you afraid that they may inform the Ministry or Dumbledore that you were there?"

"I'm confident that they will not. Client confidentiality is one of their most prized values. And even if they do go and tell, while it may put Dumbledore on his guard, I highly doubt the Ministry would take the warnings seriously. From what I can tell, Cornelius Fudge lives in a state of constant denial."

Harry laughed, _hard, _which was apparently contagious because even Voldemort chuckled lightly.

Their laugh was interrupted by another soft _pop, _and the sudden reappearance of Mixey.

"Dinner is being readys, Master," the little elf squeaked as she bowed low."

"Good, Mixey. We'll be down in a moment."

"Yes, Master," she squeaked again before popping away.

Voldemort sighed and pushed himself out of his chair while Harry quickly got to his feet. Voldemort led Harry down to the first floor, through a few corridors and into a fairly roomy dining hall. It had a long table, but only two places were set, the seat at the head of the table, and the one right next to it on it's right. The two took their seats and a moment later the food appeared on the table before them.

Part of Harry acknowledged that the situation he found himself in was rather surreal, but a much bigger part of himself felt too comfortable to care, so he just went with it.

"Tell me, Potter," Voldemort began after several quiet minutes of eating, "why the hell are you even taking Divination?"

Harry groaned. "Because I was an idiot at the end of my second year? Which we've already recognized as fact. Basically, my 'best mate' talked me into it. The idea was that the class would be an 'easy O'. A 'light class' that would be easy to take and easy to pass and not have much work. Of course _now_ I realize that's an utterly idiotic reason to be taking it, but at the end of my second year, it seemed valid enough. I'm actually looking into switching my electives over to Runes and Arithmancy for next year. I'm planning to talk to McGonagall about it after my next Transfiguration class on Thursday. If I start taking those subjects next year, and get into the same class as the 3rd years, I'll be able to take my OWLs during my seventh year."

"I could tutor you in them over the summer. They could test you and you could end up in class with the 4th years instead of the 3rd years. That way you're only one year behind instead of two. With additional tutoring each summer, you could easily sit your NEWTs on time," Voldemort offered easily and Harry blinked at him with honest surprise.

"Seriously?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively before taking another bite of his steak.

"I mean... won't you be really busy?"

"I will have enough free time for that. Besides, I imagine things will continue to progress slowly for quite some time to come. My current plans necessitate 'laying low' for a while. I won't be starting active raids for at least a year. There is too much behind-the-scenes ground work that needs to be done before the public becomes aware of my return."

"If you're really sure..."

"Do not make me repeat myself _again, _Potter."

Harry ducked his head and grinned. "Alright. Thank you. Really. That would be really brilliant." Harry said with an air of awe, feeling legitimately overwhelmed.

"This, of course, is dependent on you staying in the manor over the summer. If you choose to go on holiday out of the country, instead, it won't be possible."

"Oh... well, I really hadn't given the whole 'going out of country' thing a lot of thought. Is... is it really alright with you if I stay here?" Harry asked, still feeling rather disbelieving of all this.

Voldemort sighed in annoyance. "_Yes Potter,_ you're making me _repeat myself Potter_."

"Right. Sorry," Harry said quickly and then ducked his head again to hide the huge grin spreading across his lips. He didn't know why exactly, but he felt exceedingly happy right then.

Light, but easy, conversation flowed throughout the rest of dinner. Voldemort asked Harry a few more things about his studies and his interests, but discussion was kept generally minimal during the meal. They returned to the study afterwards and assumed their usual positions, with Voldemort in his chair, and Harry on the floor beside it. Voldemort waved his wand and summoned a stack of Daily Prophets that Harry assumed he must of either sent Mixey out for, or acquired himself during his trip to Diagon Alley. And Harry pulled out his Defense textbook and a half-written essay that he had due for 'Moody's' class later that week.

It was nearly 9pm before Harry finally packed up his things and left after bidding Voldemort goodbye. He used the time-turner to return to shortly before the end of his Divination class, so that he could get back to the Great Hall at the same time that his earlier self had left it.

He wasn't really feeling hungry, but enough time had passed since he had eaten dinner with Voldemort that he was able to eat a bit. He was already feeling pretty tired, but with all the time-turner use lately, his body was beginning to adjust to his strange and erratic schedule.

He slipped away from Hermione and Ron around 8pm and went down to the chamber for an hour to continue copying some more pages out of the book, but found himself too tired to put up with the utter silence of the room. His companion slipped into the back of his conscious mind, but it just wasn't the same as actually being in a room with Voldemort. He was becoming so accustomed to the man's company that he actually felt a bit lonely without him there.

Ron and Hermione's company felt hollow, but it was better than nothing, so he returned to the common room and ended up having a lengthy discussion with Hermione about the Defense essay that was due at the end of the week. Hermione was quite stunned to learn that Harry had gotten it finished already and insisted on reading it over to double-check his work. He found the insinuation that he had 'rushed through it' and as such, probably done a sloppy job, rather irritating, but he humored her and allowed her to read it through. When she was done, and couldn't find a thing wrong with it, he smiled at her with a smug satisfaction.

– –


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Harry easily slipped into his new routine. Every day after lunch he would slip away to Voldemort's manor house and keep the Dark Lord 'company' while he performed his meditation exercise. Harry would read while he sat there; some days Voldemort would supply him with a specific book, but other days Harry would just read his text books or work on homework for some class.

He was spending almost all of his evenings with Ron and Hermione again, but he still tended to spend at least a half hour a day as he continued working on copying the book down in the chamber. By Wednesday night he had almost finished copying it. He left the chamber with only five more pages left to copy, and a hand cramp. He and Hermione were spending a lot of time in the evenings working on translating it, and their efforts had gained the curiosity of Ginny, who had started 'helping' them – which really meant that she was sitting at the table with them and asking questions that were slowing down their progress.

Ron was clearly very annoyed at their boring little side project and was spending more and more time with Seamus and Dean.

Thursday morning arrived and Harry had Transfiguration during first block and then a free period. Once the class had begun to clear out, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione and told them to go on ahead. When they looked at him with curious confusion, he told them he was going to speak with McGonagall about his classes for next year and they both understood quickly.

Harry stood up from his desk and packed away the last of his books just as the last of the other students left the room. Professor McGonagall looked up to see him still standing there and rose a single questioning eyebrow in his direction.

"Was there something you needed, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Actually, yes. I was hoping to speak with you about my elective courses and my options for next year."

She looked mildly surprised by this but quickly stood to her feet and began to walk towards the door to the class room. "Alright, Mr. Potter. Shall we continue this conversation in my office then?"

"That would be great," Harry said with a grin as he began to walk beside her and out of the classroom.

After a brief journey down the corridor, the two of them reached the deputy headmistress's office and sat down on opposite sides of her desk. Harry quickly began to explain to her what he was hoping to do with his classes for the following year.

"This is a very unusual request, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said after he had finished explaining everything.

"I really don't see why it's not done more often. I mean, how many people really know what they're going to be interested in later on in life, when they're only twelve years old? Besides, worse case scenario, I end up in the class with the third year's and take my Ancient Runes and Arithmancy OWLs in my seventh year."

McGonagall nodded her head slowly, but from the thin-lipped frown on her face, he could tell she wasn't convinced.

"I'm also thinking about looking into some private tutoring this summer in both subjects. At least the theory and all the reading. If I can pass competency tests in August, I was hoping that maybe I could get placed with the forth years."

"Private tutoring?" McGonagall echoed with surprise.

"Yes. I've already spoken with someone who is willing to help me. Do you think it would be possible to arrange for a test in both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy?"

"Well, I..." she began hesitantly before huffing a bit and then giving a somewhat resigned sigh. "I'll have to speak with Professors Septima and Babbling to see what they think of all of this. There will also be the issue of making sure that the classes work with your normal fifth year class schedule. There may be timing conflicts."

"If that does become an issue, perhaps I could apply to the Ministry for a time-turner?" Harry asked with big, innocent, puppy-dog eyes.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, which only made Harry grin.

Harry ducked his head and then took on a more serious expression. "All fun aside, Professor, I really am serious about this. It's important to me. I made a mistake at the end of second year. I chose the wrong classes. Pure and simple. And I chose them for the worst reasons."

"And what reasons would those be?"

"I chose them because everyone said they were _easy_. But now I realize that I'm just wasting a precious, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are really valuable subjects, and I'm really interested in learning both of them. Now that I've realized what a stupid mistake I've made, I'm trying to fix it. Surely it isn't too late?" he finished, with a pleading tone.

McGonagall gave another resigned sigh. "I will admit that I would normally tell you no in this situation. However the tremendous improvement in your classwork over the year, and the fact that your other professors have given similar reports during staff meetings leads me to give your request more consideration than I usually would."

Harry blinked. "Staff meetings?" _The teachers had been talking about him in the staff meetings?_ Somehow this didn't exactly sit well with him.

"Yes, your classwork improvement over the last year has come up several times in our meetings. Even Professor Snape has had no choice but to admit that your work has improved," she said with the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

Harry choked out a bit of a laugh that he tried to morph into a cough. "Is that so?" he asked innocently. "That must have been quite painful for him."

McGonagall _snorted_. She would deny it till her dying day, but Harry had heard it and he would never forget it. He had made McGonagall _snort_.

"Yes, well... Mr. Potter... Taking into consideration your improved worth ethics and study habits, and your sincere desire to learn the subjects, I will do my best to help you with this. I cannot guarantee anything, but I will try."

Harry gave her a huge smile and thanked her profusely before bidding her farewell and heading off to find Ron.

– –

By Thursday night Harry had finished copying the last few pages of the ancient elven book and returned to the common room to help Hermione with translating it. The book seemed to be made up of several ancient legends, and the further they translated, the more and more interesting they were becoming. However translating the texts was still extremely slow-going, and Harry found he rarely had the energy at the end of the days to dedicate a lot of his focus towards the task. In contrast, Hermione was becoming down-right dedicated to it, and Ginny was acting as her personal cheerleader.

During the last week, Harry hadn't felt nearly as strong a _need _or deep seeded desire to spend an hour each day practicing the dark arts as he once did. The anxious, antsy, tension that had eaten away at his mind each day up until he was finally able to get down into the chamber, had dulled significantly now that he was spending several hours a day in the company of the Dark Lord.

Harry had absolutely no explanation for why spending time with Voldemort every day would have any effect on that irrational itch he'd been experiencing for months now. Despite not having an explanation for it, the fact that it clearly _had_ an effect was obvious. Harry decided that he needed to try speaking to Voldemort about it and see if the Dark Lord had any insight into the matter.

The more time he'd spent in the man's company, the more comfortable he felt with actually asking questions, so the idea of trying to explain his experience to Voldemort and asking the man's opinion wasn't nearly as scary or intimidating as it might have once been. But this would also mean openly broaching the subject of how he was affected so strangely by Voldemort's presence, and _that_ still made him feel a little hesitant. Despite the fact that they had _acknowledged_ that the two of them were interacting in a way that was probably a bit odd for both of them, they hadn't actually _discussed_ it.

Unless it was _normal_ for the Dark Lord to spend large amounts of time with individual followers and _pet_ their hair if they sat within reach.

But somehow Harry seriously doubted that was the case. It _really_ didn't seem like the sort of thing Voldemort would normally do.

Saturday arrived and Harry portkeyed to the manor as soon as he was finished with lunch. Voldemort was already in his usual meditative position on the floor and Harry took up his usual spot a few feet away.

After an hour, and the most powerful spike in Voldemort's parselmagic that Harry had thus far sensed from the man, Voldemort stood, stretched and sat heavily in his chair. He read a couple muggle newspapers and then went through the Daily Prophet – Harry had learned that the house-elf, Mixey, was going out daily to acquire a copy of the magical paper for her master – Voldemort sighed, set the papers aside and stood up.

Harry turned and watched the man, curiously for a moment without saying anything. Voldemort took a few steps towards the door before turning back and looking at Harry expectantly.

"Coming?"

Harry blinked, but then quickly scrambled to his feet. He followed Voldemort as his long fast strides quickly took them down the stairs and through the corridors towards the ballroom where they had performed the resurrection ritual.

"So what are we doing?" Harry finally asked as he managed to make his strides match Voldemort's and walked beside him.

"I am going to begin teaching you a few important skills during your visits here. The first one is apparition."

Harry's foot caught on the rug and he almost stumbled in surprise at this, but he collected himself and caught back up.

"Apparition? You're going to teach me to apparate?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Potter. I'm going to teach you to apparate," Voldemort echoed while rolling his eyes.

"Can the Ministry detect that? As I understand it, you need a license to apparate, and you can't even take the test until you're seventeen."

"The Ministry cannot detect it from _you_ because your trace is gone."

"Oh, well that's brilliant," Harry mused as a grin spread across his lips and the pair of them entered the ballroom.

Voldemort quickly began to explain the theory behind it, and then apparated from one side of the ballroom to the other, and back again, so that Harry could feel his magic during the act. Once he learned that Harry had never experienced apparition _at all_, he did a side-along apparition just to make sure Harry would know what to expect.

Harry spent the next two minutes crouching on the floor trying to make sure he didn't lose his lunch.

"I thought portkeying was bad..." Harry grumbled as he finally felt stable enough to stand up straight. "What is with all forms of magical transport being horrifically disorienting? I can't use a floo without falling on my ass, I've only just barely begun to land from portkey travel without stumbling, and now _this_. Ugh..."

Voldemort chuckled in amusement. "You'll get used to it."

"So... I'm curious, when _you_ apparate, I hardly hear a sound from you. It's almost as quiet as a house-elf's _pop_. Everyone else I've seen apparate always makes a loud _crack_."

"Again, it just takes practice and power. I'm sure with some work you will also be more than capable of near-silent apparition. You certainly have the power reserves for it."

Harry nodded his head thoughtfully. "You know, I had another question I've been meaning to ask since we started this."

"Yes?" Voldemort said dryly with a sigh of impatience.

"We're apparating inside the manor, but I thought that the manor had anti-apparition wards all around it?"

"I am keyed into the wards, and I have keyed you in as well. So _we_ will be able to apparate in and out of the manor, as well as aparate within it's boundaries. _No one else_ will be capable of the same thing, however, unless I key them in as well."

Harry blinked. "You've keyed me into your apparition wards?"

Voldemort rose a single challenging eyebrow, and Harry ducked his head to try and conceal the huge grin that was spreading across his face.

"Are you're curiosities sufficiently satisfied now? I would appreciate getting on with the lesson."

Harry chuckled and smiled up at the man. "Yeah, I'm good. Let's get on with it."

Voldemort rolled his eyes at Harry, but quickly slipped into what Harry had deemed his 'teacher mode'. Harry didn't manage to apparate that evening, but Voldemort said he was convinced Harry would get it within a few more lessons with relative ease.

When the lesson had come to a close, Harry casually thanked Voldemort and said 'bye' before heading out to the time-turner room and then returning to Hogwarts.

– –

It was Sunday at lunch, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all sitting in the great hall eating. Or rather, Ron was eating, Hermione was working on translating some more passages from the ancient elven book, and Harry was thumbing through a book on occlumency he'd found down in Slytherin's study. He had disguised the book's cover to look like his charms text book, while also casting a mild notice-me-not charm on it, and so far, no one had noticed it.

"Harry, are you sure you copied this part down, right?" Hermione's voice cut into his focus suddenly and he looked up at her with a blank face.

"Hmm?"

Her face was buried in her copy of the bound notebook that he had given her, while the Old Aldric language book sat on the table beside her.

"This part here... I can't find this word anywhere... I almost think you may have copied it down wrong," she said with her brows furrowed as she continued to look back and forth between the two books intently.

"Hm... I suppose it's certainly possible. I've tried to recheck my work pretty thoroughly."

She huffed in frustration and set the notebook on the table with a _thwap!_, causing Ron's cup of pumpkin juice to wobble precariously for a moment. Hermione's eyes widened as she watched it in horror for a second before it became clear that it was _not_ about to spill on the notebook. She sighed in relief before returning her attention to Harry.

"Are you _sure_ you can't just bring me the original book?" she asked in a pleading voice.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Sorry Hermione, but I'm not willing to remove it from the room where it's kept. It has to stay there."

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a hard look. "Could I just go to the room then?" she asked after a second in an innocent tone.

Harry gave her a hard look for a long moment. It had been a while since their last spat about Harry's mysterious secrets. He supposed he was due for another. "Sorry 'Mione. I'm not telling."

She huffed, folded her arms across her chest and scowled at him. For a long minute she fumed quietly. Harry assumed she was just going to let it go, but this time, she didn't. "_Why!_" she cried in a sudden explosion of pent up frustration.

"Why what?" Harry said, taken aback by the intensity of her burst.

"Why won't you tell me where it is you're going! What are you doing! Where are you going? Are you breaking a school rule? Are you leaving the grounds?"

"I'm not breaking any rules, and no, I am not leaving the grounds. Where I go is still within the school," Harry lied easily.

"Then why can't you tell me where it is! Why don't you trust me! You talk about us earning your trust back, but you know trust is a two-way street, Harry James Potter! If you keep pushing us away like this, how are _we_ supposed to trust _you!_"

Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He was getting fed up with making excuses to them and realized that he was going to have to give her _something_ to hold her off a while. "Maybe I like having a secret place that only I can go to, and no one else can bother me at, did that ever occur to you?" Harry asked with a rather pointed look and raised eyebrows.

Hermione came up short, frowned, and looked legitimately hurt. "So you go there to get away from us, then?"

"I go there to get away from _everyone,_ Hermione. You see, during first term, there was this thing where every bloody student in the school suddenly hated the very air I breathed, and all I wanted to do was get away from all the glares, snickers, and snide remarks. I found someplace that I could to to be alone and I got used to it. I found that I honestly _enjoyed_ the alone time, and that it allowed me to think clearer and get more accomplished. So even after people decided to do another flip-flop and stopped hating my guts, the fact that I enjoyed the alone time didn't change. I got _used to it._

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm not actually _hiding_ anything big? Maybe I just found a secret room in this big crazy castle filled with old forgotten secrets, and that room has some books in it, and I like to go there to read and get my work done? That's it. No big crazy conspiracy. No rule breaking, or devious ulterior motives. I did go there for my animagus practice, but now I just go there to be alone and read in peace."

Hermione still looked rather crushed at this point, and not as convinced as he was hoping, so Harry huffed an annoyed breath and pressed on.

"Maybe you aren't entirely clear on some of my personal history, Hermione, but before Hogwarts, I was _always alone._ I went to school, came home, did my chores, and then I got locked away in my cupboard and spent all my time alone in a dark little space with absolutely no company. When I got to Hogwarts I thought '_This is my chance to finally make friends without them being chased away by Dudley, and to try and be outgoing, and spend my time with people_.' But it's always been forced for me. I've been _forcing_ myself to be outgoing. _Forcing_ myself to be social. I've realized that I'm not a naturally social person. It's just the way I grew up. I've come to realize that I enjoy being able to go someplace and just_ be alone_. It's like I can breath again. I spend some time alone to recoup, and then I feel the ability to be around people again.

"And it's not like I'm not _trying_ here. I mean, you have to acknowledge that I'm spending less time there then I used to! I've been with you guys every evening for the last two weeks! I'm even including you in this project with my book! So come on! Give me a break, will you?"

Ron and Hermione sat there, looking at him with rather stunned expressions for a long, thick minute before Hermione's jaw began to move a bit.

"They locked you in a cupboard?" she asked in a weak voice.

Harry blinked. "I've mentioned my cupboard before, haven't I?" he asked, mildly surprised and confused by her response. Hadn't he mentioned it before? He did suppose he had glazed over it a lot in the past. He didn't want their pity. Plus, he recalled having actually been rather ashamed of it. Like it was somehow _his fault_ how his relatives had treated him. He no longer held those delusions though. It wasn't his fault at all. His shitty muggle relatives were just monstrous assholes. For them, it was all about fear of what they couldn't understand or control. Magic scared them, and Harry had personified it. Harry had realized that it was simply human nature to instantly try to destroy anything that scared or confused them. His relatives were scared and confused by him, so they tried to break him. _And someday, he would repay them for their sacrifice and kindness._ Harry remarked, sarcastically, internally.

"What kind of cupboard?" Hermione asked, her voice getting harder and a bit _cold_.

Harry sighed and let his head fall into his hand. "Uh... a boot cupboard, I guess. Under the stairs. They put a little cot in there for me. I lived there till I turned eleven and got my Hogwarts letter. The Dursley's panicked when they saw that my acceptance letter was addressed to '_Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs_'. They thought they were being watched and finally moved me into the extra bedroom."

"They had an extra bedroom, but they kept you in a cupboard!" Hermione all but shrieked.

Harry's eyes widened as he glanced around the great hall for a second before he glared back at her, _hard._

"Would you keep it down!" he hissed angrily. Harry pulled out his wand and did a few quick movements with it while silently incanting the proper spell in his mind. The sounds of the great hall suddenly muffled into a distant buzzing noise, as the three of them were enclosed in a small privacy ward. "Look... how the hell did we even get on this? Weren't we arguing about me sneaking off to a secret room or something?"

"How could they _do that!"_ Hermione said in a horrified, sad voice, apparently not listening to Harry. "They _still_ treat you terribly, don't they? Oh, Merlin! The _bars!_ The bars on your window!" She turned her gaze to Ron, who was suddenly looking rather pale. "Before second year when Ron and the twins rescued you... oh Harry! How could they treat you like that?"

"Yeah, well I've got a better question for you. How could Dumbledore leave me there as a baby and not once check up on me? Or better still – how can he know about it now and still make me go back? Says it's the only place I'm _safe,_" Harry sneered sarcastically while rolling his eyes.

Hermione looked horrified. "He couldn't possibly know! Harry, you have to tell Professor Dumbledore! If he knew the truth, he would never make you go back!"

"He _does_ know, Hermione," Harry said through clenched teeth. "He knows perfectly well, how they've treated me my whole life. My aunt has written him letters over the years, begging him to take me back and leave me with someone else. He _knows_ how much they hate me. How much they wish to be rid of me. And I've _told him_ how they treat me. That they don't feed me and that they work me like a bloody house elf each summer. _He knows_ Hermione. Honestly, I thought _you_ knew. Or at least, I thought you would have figured it out from all the clues."

"No..." Hermione said in a weak little whisper as she began shaking her head back and forth. "No... I never knew... Oh _Merlin_ Harry... I'm sorry... I never realized... I..."

"Hermione," Harry said in a hard tone, "Just stop. There's nothing for you to apologize for –"

"Yes there is!" she insisted. "There _is_, Harry! I should have realized! I can't believe I was so stupid that I never listened! You have mentioned _the cupboard_ before, but it was always in passing and you acted so dismissive about it that it never stuck. I wasn't _listening_. I should have... I should have..."

"Should have, _what_, Hermione? What could you have done?" Harry said, leaning back on his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well I should have done _something!_ Told a professor, or something!"

"I've told teachers. Back in primary school I tried telling people and it just got me in trouble. The only times my uncle has ever really _hit_ me were after I told people at the school and they visited the Dursley's or called them. All the rest of my life they just neglected me. Dudders made a sport of beating the shit out of me, but I got pretty good at running from him and his friends, and he's let up since he found out I'm magical. And_ I've told _Dumbledore about all of this and he doesn't give a damn. Telling McGonagall won't do any good because in the end – for some unfathomable reason –_ Dumbledore _thinks hehas say over where I go for the bloody holidays. Well, fine. Whatever. _Asking_ to go somewhere else won't work. So I just won't _ask_."

"But you can't go back there! They can't treat you like that! It's criminal!"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that now."

"Professor Dumbledore must just not realize how bad it is. Harry, you've got to just _tell them!_"

"No."

"But you don't want to go back to the Dursley's right?"

"Correct. And I'm not going to be going back."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but then stopped, coming up short with a confused look on her face. "Wait... what?"

"I'm not going back. But I'm not asking Dumbledore for _permission_ first, either. In what way is it _his_ business what I do over the summer? Legally, it isn't. If I get permission from the Dursley's to go somewhere else for the summer, that's all that matters because _they_ are my legal guardians. Dumbledore has no say over my life while I'm not in school. So I'm going somewhere else, and I'm not telling him."

"What! But... where? Harry, that's dangerous! You're not thinking of running off with Sirius are you? That's just not safe! You saw how Sirius has to live, Harry –"

"I'm _not_ going to stay with Sirius," Harry broke in.

"But where are you going then? What if someone comes after you! There was that Death Eater attack at the World Cup, and we all know that _someone_ wants you dead, because they orchestrated this whole tournament thing. Harry, it's just not safe to run off without telling Dumbledore where you're going."

"If no one knows where I go, then no one can find me. That's why I'm not telling _anyone._ And I'm sorry, but that includes you two. If you don't know where I am, no one can force you to tell them. Nice and simple. And by the way, Hermione – if you run off to the headmaster before the end of the school year, and tell him that I'm planning to run off this summer, I swear I will never speak to you, _ever again._ Do you understand me? You can feel free to go off and tell him that I've been abused and neglected by my relatives and just _see for yourself_ how seriously he takes it, but mention that I'm running off, and we're through. I will _never_ trust you with a secret, _ever again._ Do you get it?"

Hermione jerked back as if she had just been slapped.

"Harry... I..."

"I want you to understand something here. I'm _trusting you_ with this info. Do you see? You know the whole 'trust is a two way street' bit from a few minutes ago? Well, here I am, trusting you. I've just told you something that no one else knows, and I have no intention of telling anyone else. If _you_ tell someone else, then you're betraying my trust. You've already seriously betrayed my trust once this year Hermione, and in my game, it's two strikes and you're out, not three."

"Harry! Come on, give her a break!" Ron said, speaking up for the first time in ages. Up until this point, he had sat there with a shocked and utterly dumbfounded expression on his face.

"This goes for you too Ron. I don't see you running off to the Headmaster like I see Hermione doing it, but the warning goes for you too."

"Why do you think that _I_ would run off and snitch!" Hermione asked indignantly.

"Because you would convince yourself that you were doing it to help me. To _protect me._ To keep me from making a mistake or something. You'd convince yourself that you were being a _good friend_ by_ betraying me_, but I will _never_ see it like that. As far as I'm concerned, it's just betrayal."

Ron nodded his head a bit and looked thoughtful. "He's got you there, Hermione. You probably _would_ run off and tell. It's just like the thing with the Firebolt, last year."

"Ron!" Hermione cried out. She looked back and forth between Ron and Harry with hurt in her eyes before she sunk a bit in her seat and looked down into her lap.

"I won't tell anyone," she said weakly. She paused for a moment and then appeared to make up her mind about something. "But I still want to try speaking to Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster about your relatives! I just can _not_ believe that they would know about how they treat you, and still make you go back there!"

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Suit yourself."

Hermione sat there gnawing on her bottom lip with a look of deep concentration for a few minutes before she looked up at Harry with legitimate worry in her eyes. "You really can't tell us where you're going?"

"Nope," Harry said simply as he returned his focus to his book.

"But how do you know it'll be safe?"

"You can never_ know_ these things Hermione, but I do know I'll be safer there than I am at the Dursley's."

"But I thought that your relatives house had some super fancy wards or something?" Ron pitched in.

"The blood wards are worthless against everyone except for Voldemort himself," Harry began, and then silently added, _and they're probably worthless against him now too, since he's got my blood in his veins..._ "I think Dumbledore threw up a whole bunch of wards on his own on top of them to keep out Death Eaters, but they only work so long as I'm in the actual house. If I leave the house to go to the park, or just down the street, then I'm out of their so-called 'perfect protection'. So to stay 'safe' I have to, _literally_, be a prisoner in my own home.

"And while the wards protect me from _Death Eaters_, they don't protect me from Vernon, or Dudley, or any of Dudder's shitty friends. I've had a lot more bruises and broken bones at the hands of those arses than I've ever had from Death Eaters. Personally? I'll take my chances with the Death Eaters."

Ron looked pale and Hermione seemed shocked to the brink of tears.

"Broken _bones!"_ Hermione gasped. "Are you serious?"

Harry huffed and looked up from his book in annoyance. "Yes, Hermione. Broken bones. My left arm, and my right wrist, to be specific. Ages five and seven. Probably got some fractures over the years too, but they went untreated. Vernon was too cheap to let me see a proper doctor unless there was a bone practically protruding from the skin. I suspect I've got a bit of a magical healing factor because without it I doubt I'd still be alive with all the beatings Dudders and his buddies put me through. In any case, all the more reason for me to stay the bloody hell away from those people. I'm _Not Going Back._"

"Alright, Harry. I totally agree that you definitely should not ever have to go back to those horrible people, but are you sure that where you're going is really going to be safe?"

"Yes, Hermione. I really am sure. I mean, technically, I've got two different ideas in mind for what I could do this summer, but I'm definitely leaning more towards one than the other, and _that_ option would actually put me behind wards even more powerful than the 'super fancy wards' that Dumbledore put on the Dursley's."

"No way!" Ron gaped.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, well it's a new residence and the wards are being constructed right now, but it's some seriously high level security. For that matter, I'm not totally sure I'll even be able to receive owls there, because I'm pretty sure that he's adding anti-owl wards in the mix, but I'll make sure to send you guys letters so you know I'm still safe."

Hermione's jaw floundered, helplessly for a few minutes. "I... but... Harry, _how_ did you... I mean... this place that you're going to go to, how did this all come about? How long have you been planning this!"

Harry could see the hurt in her eyes at realizing that he had once again been hiding something that she probably deemed as 'a big deal' from them.

Harry sighed, closed his book, and gave Ron and Hermione a long, hard look.

"Have you ever heard of legilimency?"

"Legililiwhuh?" Ron said. He turned and looked over to Hermione, expectantly but she just shrugged, helplessly.

"Wow, really?" Harry said, looking at Hermione with legitimate surprise. "_You've_ never heard of it, Hermione? _Really?"_

"No! What is it?"

"It's a mind magic. Really high level magic and very few people can learn it. It lets you read other people's minds. You can sift through their memories and their thoughts, and they'll never even know that you're doing it, unless they know the counter magic called occlumency. The only thing that a legilimense needs to read your every private thought and memory, is eye contact."

"Blimey!" Ron whispered, looking horrified.

Hermione looked disgusted by this new information, but then she looked very thoughtful. "Harry..." she began hesitantly, looking up at him, "why are you telling us this?"

"I've been teaching myself occlumency, so no one can read my mind. Neither of you have that protection in place. If I had told either of you what I'd been up to, then certain people in the school, could have taken that knowledge from your heads without you ever even knowing it."

"Who! Are you saying that there's someone at Hogwarts who can perform legilimency?"

"I know of at _least_ two people in the school who can," Harry said dismissively.

"Who?" Ron and Hermione asked in the same whispered hush.

"Snape and Dumbledore."

Hermione gasped.

"SNAPE!" Ron roared, looking a mixture of horror, anger, and disgust. "Snape can read our minds!" Ron paused, grimacing in thought for a moment before he gasped again. "But Snape's a Death Eater!"

"We don't know that Ron!" Hermione instantly reprimanded. "And it's _Professor_ Snape!"

Harry then sat back and watched as the two of them began to bicker about Snape and what it could mean that he was able to read their minds, and all Harry wanted to do was point out that he hardly gave a damn about _Snape_, and was far more ticked about _Dumbledore_ doing it.

Now that Harry knew the signs to look for, in retrospect, there were a number of instances where he had been sitting with the headmaster and he was _sure_ the man had used legilimency on him. First year, second year, even _third_ year. If Dumbledore _had_ read his mind, in the instances when he suspected the man did, it would mean that Dumbledore knew about Harry and his friends investigating the stone, and that Dumbledore _knew_ about Harry having found the diary, _long_ before Ginny took it back... hell, Harry had known that the diary belonged to _Tom Riddle_, and if Dumbledore read his mind when he suspected the man had, he undoubtedly saw that.

It all just led more and more credence to his theories that Dumbledore _wanted_ Harry to keep having run-ins with Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and near-death experiences. The real question, was _why?_

Harry refocused on Hermione and Ron, just as Ron was getting all red-faced with his own frustrated insistence that Snape was pure evil and couldn't be trusted, against Hermione's arguments that Dumbledore would never let the man teach if he hadn't earned the headmaster's trust. It was an old argument and Harry rolled his eyes.

"But anyway!" Harry said interrupting them. "The point is that if I tell you guys too much, then someone can pluck the knowledge out of your minds, even without you realizing that they've done it. If you two knew how I came across this place I plan to go, you could figure out what the place was. Anyone who knows legilimency could read your minds and pluck the knowledge right out of your heads and you couldn't do a thing about it. When people realize I haven't got back to the Dursley's like I'm supposed to, and they can't find me, you two are sure to be the first ones that they go to. Any clues I give you two are just going to be clues used by other people when they go trying to find me. The best way for me to stay safe is if _no one_ knows where I am. And that means absolutely _no one._"

"But what if a Death Eater or someone out to get you finds out, and then none of us know where you are and can't come help?"

"You _really really_ don't have to worry about it. I'm not a fool Hermione. You know – Constant Vigilance, and all that? I'm taking Moody's advice to heart. Remember him? Mr. 'You're-not-being-paranoid-if-people-are-really-out-to-get-you'? Trust me when I say that I'm taking _loads_ of precautions."

Hermione heaved a heavy, defeated sigh and nodded hear head. "Alright, Harry. But _please_ be careful! And you have to promise to write to us at least several times a week so we know you're alright."

Harry grimaced a little, realizing that that would be rather annoying, but it was a fairly simple step to secure their cooperation.

"Fine, but I'm probably going to by cycling owls. Hedwig is too obvious and easy to spot."

"Harry... you mentioned a _'he'_ earlier, so you're staying with someone specific?" Hermione began to ask hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I mean... how can you be sure you can _trust_ this person? I understand that you can't tell us who it is or anything about him, but what do you know about him? What makes you think you can trust him?"

"I know a _lot_ about him, actually. And I really, _honestly_ do trust him. I trust him with my life. I know he can, and _will_ make sure I'm safe. I'll be okay. Don't worry. I really have got this covered."

Hermione frowned sadly and her shoulders sagged somewhat but she nodded her head.

Harry went back to his reading, but paused as he realized that out of everything he had just said to his friends, it was the last statement he made that had the most truth to it.

He trusted Voldemort with his life. He'd already placed his life in the man's hands several times, in fact.

He trusted the most dangerous and deadly Dark Lord in half a millennium with his life, and he felt safer and more secure in that trust than he ever had in placing his trust in anyone else.

He cracked a smile and chuckled to himself at the insanity of it.

– –


	20. Chapter 20

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

On Monday, during his visit to Voldemort's manor, Harry succeeded in apparating across the ballroom, once. He was a bit off on his destination – missing his intended spot by about five feet, but for his first successful attempt, it wasn't bad.

As he was preparing to leave, Voldemort informed him that once he had apparition down, the two of them were going to begin dueling lessons and discussing the magical theory behind the dark arts. Harry just stared back at the dark lord with a dropped jaw and stunned silence. The _Dark Lord_ wanted to teach him dueling and dark arts?

After a scathing scolding about looking like an idiot and being instructed to pick his jaw up off the ground, Harry was dismissed and used the time-turner before using the portkey back to Hogwarts.

Harry used his cloak to slip back into the school, the same as he did every day after his lunch-time visits to Voldemort's manor, and met back up with Ron, only a minute after his earlier self disappeared into a bathroom. The pair made their way up to Divination, and with each step Harry felt his anticipation growing.

He was going to try Voldemort's suggestion today, and he couldn't help the feeling in his gut that he was actually going to get somewhere that day. He scolded himself for being stupid enough to get his hopes up, but couldn't quite manage to squash the feeling away.

As the class gathered in the room, it became obvious that the smoke scrying section was done because Trelawney had rearranged the seats again back to their usual places and the big fire pit in the center of the room was gone.

When she called the class to attention, Trelawney began a long-winded talk about using the inner eye to see into a person's soul that Harry was quickly tuning out.

"The Human Aura is made up of seven main Human aura's which extend up to four feet from the Human body. These aura's all occupy the same space at the same time, each Human aura extending out further than the previous aura. All Human aura's are interconnected and reliant on the others for normal function," Trelawney was saying in that annoying low 'mysterious' sounding voice she used.

"The astral human aura extends about eight to twelve inches from the physical body and appears as brightly coloured rainbow clouds. The astral human aura is the bridge between the physical world and the spiritual world.

"The mental human aura extends about four to eight inches from the physical body and is usually a bright shade of yellow in colour. Within this Human aura are our thoughts and mental processes. The more active our thinking processes the brighter our mental Human aura becomes. Within this Human aura can be found thought forms. "

Harry tuned out her lecture, choosing instead to try catching the professor's eye and see if he could maintain eye contact long enough to slip inside her head for a quick look-around. Unfortunately, Trelawney didn't seem terribly interested in looking at him at that moment, and just kept right on talking and talking about different auras and how many inches they existed from the body, as if that meant something to any of them.

About twenty minutes later, she told them to partner up, and cut off all lighting in the room except for the 'natural light' that came in through the windows, which still had thing hangings draping over them, giving the room a rather dim look.

Harry sighed heavily and turned to face Ron. She gave them instructions and told them what page to turn to in their textbooks before telling them to start.

Ron said he was too confused and insisted that Harry give it a go first. Harry read the page in the book, since he hadn't paid any attention to Trelawney's annoying ramblings. Finally he focused on Ron and gave it a go.

"Let's see... well... I think for the Etheric Aura I'm seeing er.." Harry looked down at the book before looking back up at Ron. "Delft blue? That means you've got strong ethics. A strong deep blue also suggests that you're in good physical health. I think. For your Mental Aura I'm seeing... sort of a sienna color I'd say." Harry looked down at the book and then had to hold back a bark of laughter.

"Whut?" Ron asked, seeing Harry's expression.

"Oh um... well, the book says that Raw Sienna indicates poor thinking process," Harry mumbled through the tight grin he was trying to force off his face.

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. What's next?"

"Um, well, your Etheric Template Aura looks purple... like grape, I guess."

"What's that one mean?"

Harry looked down at the book and then flipped the page.

"Er... Laziness."

"Pfft," Ron said, rolling his eyes again. "Next?"

"Well, your Ketheric Template Aura looks like Amber," Harry continued and then referenced the book again. "Ah. That one means strong personal courage."

Ron grinned at this one. Another minute and Harry had gone through all the different auras for Ron.

"Alright, alright. Let me do you," said Ron. He sat forward and skimmed over the book page one more time before turning his focus on Harry.

"Alright your er... Etheric Aura issss...kind of maroon-ish." Ron looked down at the book. "That means self empowerment. Your Emotional Aura is sort of like carmine. And the book says... carmine is for people seeking change. You seeking change, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and Ron moved on. "You're mental aura is... sort of like mustard, I'd say." Ron looked back down at the book and flipped to the next page where the list continued. He frowned and screwed up his face. "Well that's not right."

"What?" Harry asked, hesitantly.

"Says Mustard is usually seen on people who are really manipulative. Pfft. This stuff is such rubbish. Moving on," he said dramatically and flipped back a page. "You're uh... Etheric Template Aura is... sort of a light yellow-green. Like lemon-green." Again he consulted the book, and again he frowned at it before rolling his eyes.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well, it says that lemon-green is for people who are cheats and liars. Maybe it's more like pale green? That's spiritual advancement. It's definitely not iridescent green, and that's for friendly people. Ah, here we go. Lemon yellow, that's strength of direction. That sounds more like it."

"Heh... yeah," Harry said, feeling a bit more wary by the minute.

"Aaandd... your Celestial Aura is..." Ron trailed off before screwing up his face a lot. "I've got to be reading this one wrong. Oh... oh, well maybe not."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling rather unsettled.

"Well it looks... _black_."

"What's black mean?"

"It says that there are two types of people who end up with black in their celestial aura. Um... well, murderers, and people who've really hurt other people, or who have it in them to kill people –"

Harry's eyes went wide and for a moment he thought his heart had stopped beating.

"– and people who've been either abused a lot or tortured," Ron finished, looking back up at Harry, hesitantly.

Harry blinked at Ron, holding a neutral expression on his face. "Oh."

"Er... yeah," Ron mumbled before clearing his throat. "Anyway, this aura stuff is rubbish. Think that's sufficient to get Trelawney off our backs?"

"Yeah, just don't tell her that you saw black on mine. I'm sure she'll find some way to interpret that to mean I'm going to die a horrible death under the _cruciatus_ or something."

Ron snorted.

Harry and Ron both started to write down the notes from what they'd 'seen' during the class exercise, and Harry sat there, waiting for Trelawney to come over to speak with them.

Harry made sure to write down as much detail as he could from what he'd 'seen' of Ron's various auras so that he'd have a lot of stuff to say to her once she got over. Finally she left Lavender and Padma's group and came over to where Ron and Harry were sitting opposite each other.

She asked them how their reading went and Ron said a little bit, but was vague and mumbly. Trelawney was less than impressed and turned on Harry rather quickly. The second she made eye contact, Harry slipped into her mind and began a furious search for anything pertaining to the prophecy that he had personally witnessed the previous spring.

His search turned up instant results, much to his surprise and elation. He found the memory of her speaking the prophecy about the servant returning to his master and could tell right away that it had a very different feel to it than the rest of her memories that he'd breezed through. It was like it was on a different wavelength, and it was buried under a layer that her conscious mind didn't quite see. Harry slipped away from the prophecy memory, but stayed in the same general location of her mind and began to look for other memories that had the same strange feeling to it.

He was glad to discover that there weren't a lot of them. Trelawney obviously didn't make legitimate prophecies very often, and it was obvious that most of those that she did make were done when alone and there was no one around to even hear them.

Finally he came across one of the prophetic memories that took place in a very familiar setting. Dumbledore's office.

It was _in Dumbledore's office._ Not the pub. In fact, none of her memories of actual prophecies took place inside the Hog's Head. He pulled the one in Dumbledore's office to the forefront and quickly began to watch it. It began with Trelawney going rigid and her voice becoming suddenly very gravely. Dumbledore sat up to attention, suddenly watching her with far more interest than his demeanor a moment earlier had.

She began to speak –

_The only one with the power to match the Dark Lord approaches..._

_Born to those who have thrice defied him,_

_Born as the seventh month dies..._

_The Dark Lord will come for him and mark him as his equal._

_He will – _

"Harry?"

Harry blinked and gave a start at suddenly being jerked from Trelawney's mind.

"Are you alright Mr. Potter?" Professor Trelawney asked as she peered down at him with her enormous, magnified eyes.

He quickly tried to slip back into her mind; _desperate_ too see what came next, but she looked away and he cursed her in his own mind, as he wished he could do it in reality.

"You just zoned out there for a minute," Ron was saying, "You were talking and then you just sort of... stopped. Are you sure you're alright?"

Harry fought the urge to snap at the red head and forced a calm smile on his face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just sort of out of it today. Not getting enough sleep, I guess."

"You're not having nightmares again, are you?" Ron asked in a whisper as he leaned in closer.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I'm fine, really."

Harry turned his head and watched as Trelawney walked over to Dean and Seamus and began to speak with them. He realized he was clenching his jaw in frustrated anger, and he could feel his magic beginning to boil deep within him, furiously. The urge to curse something, _violently_, was roaring in his head, and he knew he needed to calm himself down quickly, or he might loose control of himself. He was so _frustrated!_ He had been _so close! So fucking close!_

He needed to calm down. He needed to relax. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing and push his angry magic back down inside.

It wasn't working.

He took another deep breath, trying to remember what it felt like to have Voldemort's fingers combing through his hair, and as soon as he successfully brought the memory to the surface, he felt some of the tension leaving him.

He continued to focus on the imagined feeling of long slender fingers trailing across his scalp, and the steady sound of the Dark Lord breathing during his meditation exercises and Harry finally felt like his head was clear enough to think again.

One thing was for sure, _that_ prophecy was not the exact same as the one that Voldemort had heard. He'd also gotten one more line from it than Voldemort already knew. _And the Dark Lord will come for him and mark him as his equal._

Mark him as his equal? Well, Harry _was_ marked. That was probably referring to his scar. And while Harry held no delusions about being a magical equal to the Dark Lord, there was the fact that Harry possessed a portion of Voldemort's soul. Did that make them equal on some level? Since the soul and the scar were connected, perhaps that's what that line was referring to?

He _needed_ to get the rest of it! He was going to have to find an opportunity alone with Trelawney and force some sort of situation where she couldn't get away from him until he'd gotten everything he needed from her mind.

Harry decided to visit Voldemort again later that evening and ask him for any advice. He could sense that he was on the brink of something huge, and now that he knew he could actually get it from her head, he wasn't going to give up until he had what he wanted.

The frustrating part was that he was going to have to wait a few hours because his earlier self was still at the manor, at that very moment, not having even apparated for the first time yet. Harry couldn't return to the manor until after his earlier incarnation had left, because there couldn't be two Harry's there at the same time.

Harry refocused, or at least _tried_ to refocus on the class work. He spent the remainder of the class trying, repeatedly, to make eye contact with Trelawney, and not once succeeding in getting into her head. It was exceedingly frustrating.

After class let out, Harry and Ron made their way towards the Great Hall; meeting up with Hermione in the hall on the way. Harry stabbed at his food angrily while checking his mechanical wristwatch every few minutes, practically counting down to the time he had left the manor earlier.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione's voice came through, drawing his attention away from the mutilated potato on his plate.

"Huh? Oh yeah... just... tired."

"You seem really... distracted," she said, hesitantly.

"I just..." he foundered, his mind was too jumbled and preoccupied to come up with convincing lie to tell her. "I don't know what's up. I just feel antsy," he said, ducking his head and scowling at his watch again. _Fifteen minutes..._

"You know... I think I really just need to go for a walk. I need to clear my head and sort out what's eating at me. Do you guys mind?" Harry said, giving them a pleading, apologetic look, hoping it would keep them from getting too suspicious.

Hermione and Ron shared a _Look_, but then turned back to Harry and nodded. Hermione looked worried, but didn't say anything else. Harry packed up his bag and stood to his feet. He would start walking around the grounds towards the edge of the wards and portkey to the manor as his watch showed it was the same time that it had been when he'd entered the time-turner room, several hours earlier.

– –

Voldemort watched as Harry Potter disappeared into the time-turner closet and felt the exact moment the boy's magic disappeared from the manor. He had been impressed with how fast Potter picked up on the various lessons he had taught him. Once things had been explained to him properly, he could catch on quite quickly. He still had trouble wrapping his mind around some concepts, but he had an instinctive control over his magic, and once he started to _understand_ the ideas, the magic obeyed his will without any resistance.

His development and control was on par with Voldemort's own education during his teen years. Faster even, but of course, Voldemort had had to teach _himself_ most of these things when he was younger. Potter had the advantage of a proper instructor, so it was understandable that he would be catching on quicker.

Three lessons and Potter had already managed to appratate.

Voldemort grinned to himself before pausing and frowning. Was he... _proud, _of the boy? He was. How odd.

He turned and began to make his way up the stairs towards his study. Mixey would have dinner ready soon, and he wanted to get a few things done before –

The thought was suddenly cut off by the sudden reappearance of Potter's magical energy and the sound of a portkey popping in from behind him. He turned around and found Potter standing there with that wrinkled pucker in his forehead that he got when he was frustrated. The look was instantly replaced with a huge relieved smile as he noticed the Dark Lord standing there at the foot of the stairs. The intensity of the boy's smile, and the foreign feeling it inspired in Voldemort's chest, shocked him for a moment.

He quickly squashed it and gave Potter a questioning look.

"You're back awfully soon," he observed suspiciously.

"It drove me crazy having to wait until I knew my other self had already left. I got into Trelawney's head today in class! I found the prophecy but the bloody bint blinked and turned away from me before I could hear the whole thing!"

"You found it?" Voldemort exclaimed.

"Yes! It was there! But there is definitely something seriously fishy going on. I found it in the section of her subconscious where her mind stores all of her legitimate prophecies, and it had the exact same _feel_ to it that the memory of the prophecy I heard last year about Wormtail, so I know it's real. The thing is that it was _not_ in the Hog's Head! It was in Dumbledore's office! And the portion of it that I did manage to hear wasn't exactly the same as the one your Death Eater overheard. It was really close, but some of the wording was different."

Voldemort had to take pause at this. What did it mean?

"In what way was it different? Tell me the exact wording."

"Okay, it went, '_The only one with the power to match the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. The Dark Lord will come for him and mark him as his equal. He will..._ and then I got ejected from her head by bloody _Ron Weasley_ yelling at me. Trelawney blinked and then moved on to the next group. I wanted to curse the hell out of both of them."

Voldemort had stopped paying attention to Potter's grumblings as he went deep in thought over the changes to the lines. "The power to _match_ the Dark Lord, not vanquish... interesting..."

"Yeah, I know! What the hell do you think is going on? You said you were positive that the one your spy had overheard was legitimate, but this one wasn't in a pub, and the wording is different."

"That last line is interesting too... mark you as my equal... well, I suppose its fairly obvious what that's referring to."

"My scar, and your soul."

"Precisely."

"I need to figure out a way to go digging through her head without interruption and without garnering suspicion. There's no way I can wait till next class. I'll go mental if I have to wait a whole week."

Voldemort looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking again. "Have you ever used any memory charms?"

Potter blinked. "Like _obliviate_? No. I've never really had the opportunity try it out."

"Perhaps you can pay her a visit in her office, and use a compulsion spell to get her to sit still long enough for you to have a nice thorough dig through her addled mind. When you've gotten what you need, simply _obliviate_ her and tell her that you came and asked her for help with some assignment, she helped you and you're done. Simple as that."

Potter stood there looking thoughtful as he considered the Dark Lord's suggestion. "I could try it. I was hesitant to do anything that extreme against a member of the staff... I was afraid it'd get noticed."

"Were it any other teacher, I'm sure it would, but that woman is an incompetent idiot. The only reason that Dumbledore has kept her in his employment is to protect her from _me._"

"Okay, but I've never cast that sort of compulsion charm on someone before. I've cast _Pareo _on someone, but that's a fairly powerful dark obedience spell, and I didn't think I could get away with that one inside the castle wards. I've put some simple compulsion charms on letters that I've sent my _muggle_ aunt to force her to actually answer my questions, but that spell only works when cast onto an object, not something I could cast directly onto Trelawney... although, I suppose I could just put that charm on a piece of parchment and hand it to her... then I don't have to have my wand out and put her on her guard."

"Either way. I could easily teach you how to do the other types as well. You really should know how to perform a few different compulsion and control spells."

"I get the theory and I know the spell for a standard compulsion charm, I just haven't had any way of practicing it. I was hesitant to try out any spells like that in a risky situation without knowing if I could properly cast it or not."

Voldemort looked thoughtful for a moment before a wicked grin spread across his thin lips.

"WORMTAIL!" He bellowed loudly. Potter jumped slightly at the sudden yell, but Voldemort noticed that the boy's expression quickly shifted to one of amusement and gleeful anticipation.

A few second later a sputtering, chubby, balding, man came jogging down a corridor looking anxious and worried.

"Yes, my Lord?" He said, as his eyes darted back and forth from the Dark Lord to Potter with suspicion and fear.

"You will aid us tonight. I need to instruct Potter on some spells so he can retrieve something for me."

"Yes, my Lord. Anything you need," Wormtail cowered as he dipped his head.

"Good. Potter, Wormtail, come," Voldemort said as he began to briskly stride towards one of the empty rooms that he and Potter had used a number of times for spell practice.

Potter followed with a rather menacing grin spread across his face, and Wormtail's look of worry only seemed to grow every time he glanced over and saw it.

"What are you smirking about, brat?" Wormtail hissed under his breath as they continued to walk forward. Voldemort was a good five feet ahead of them, but he heard the remark anyway. His eyes narrowed as he glanced over his shoulder as he considered reprimanding his servant for his snark.

Potter's grin only grew wider. "You're going to being playing 'lab-rat' tonight. I just think it's rather appropriate," Harry said, airily. Wormtail bristled and looked as if he were about to try and retort something, but Voldemort reached the door, opened it and turned to glare at the short fat man. Wormtail was instantly cowed by the look and remained silent.

"This shouldn't take long. I suspect Potter will catch on quickly enough," he said as he turned from them and entered the room. The two followed; Potter with a confident gait and Wormtail with a hesitant cowering step.

The lesson progressed smoothly enough. Wormtail was understandably hesitant to allow the two of them to throw compulsion charms and _obliviates_ at him, but he wasn't about to go against his Lord's direct orders, so he submitted, just as Voldemort knew he would.

Mixey interrupted them twenty minutes in, informing them that dinner was ready. Voldemort allowed Wormtail a 'break' to told him to go eat his dinner in his room, while he and Harry took their meals in the dining room.

Potter was entertaining in his enthusiasm. He was fascinated with how the different types of compulsion spells worked and the way the magic felt to cast. The more the boy spoke of how his magic 'felt' to him, the more intrigued the Dark Lord was. Very _very_ few wizards were as in tune with their magic as Potter was. The way that he, himself, was. It seemed that their magics worked very much the same way, which made the line about being equals from the prophecy that much more curious and intriguing.

After their meal, he called Wormtail back into the room with them and had Potter try his hand at the _Imperius_ curse. He couldn't use it on the Seer, because the school's wards would detect the use of any of the Unforgivables, but it was important that the boy know how to perform it anyway.

The second Potter had cast the spell correctly – which also happened to be his first try at it – the Dark Lord was once again impressed with how adept the boy was the darker spells. He almost always got them on his first attempt. He watched as Potter's eyes glazed over a bit and rolled up into his head as a look of elated euphoria spread across his features for a fraction of a second. Potter recovered quickly enough and his face was covered with a wicked grin.

"Merlin, I love that feeling," he said while a small giggle erupted from his chest.

"Feeling?" Voldemort asked curiously as he watched the boy's behavior. He was beginning to form some suspicions about the boy's magic and it was slightly concerning.

"The Darker spells... they... effect me, I guess," Potter said, pulling himself together and doing a few deep breaths to compose himself. "It's kind of crazy. I mean, in the beginning, when I first started playing around with the Dark Arts, I would totally lose myself to this sort of... _crazed madness._ This... euphoric haze of insanity, I guess. But it feels bloody amazing. It's indescribable. Anyway, your bit of soul inside me? He told me I needed to keep practicing so that I could gain control over it, so it wouldn't control me so much. That's one of the reason I made myself do exactly _one hour_ of practice every evening. But no more than that. Only one hour. I wanted to do more, but he – your er... soul – he told me that restraining the amount of time I did it was part of gaining control."

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully. It was still strange to him at times to think that the portion of his soul locked within Potter actively communicated with the boy, but he was glad now that it had. There was no telling what the boy's mental state would be at the moment if he hadn't reigned the madness like that. The boy was clearly addicted to his own dark magic, but he seemed to have it relatively under control. Voldemort himself had had to deal with a dark addiction in his youth, and it took him considerably longer to get a handle on it. He was going to have to take this into account once he really began the boy's dark art's training.

Potter refocused his attentions on the _Imperiused_ Wormtail and began forcing him to do various acts of self-humiliation, while giggling maniacally. The boy was extremely amusing to watch.

Potter lowered his wand and his giggles subsided with a content-sounding sigh. "Well, I've now officially earned myself three life sentences in Azkaban," Potter said with a chuckle.

Voldemort looked over at him and rose a single curious questioning eyebrow. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's a life sentence for every one of the Unforgivables, right?"

"You've cast an Unforgivable before?" Voldemort asked, his interest peaked.

"I didn't tell you about Skeeter?"

"Skeeter?"

"Ah, I guess I didn't. Do you know who Rita Skeeter is?"

"Isn't she a reporter for the Daily Prophet? There's been several articles in it lately reporting that she's... missing?" Voldemort ended with a slowly appearing smirk.

Potter's grin began to grow again. "Yeah. She's the nasty bint who wrote all those articles on me. She's also the one who outed me to the whole bloody world. Thing was that I just couldn't figure out how the hell she found out. She practically quoted a conversation I had with Fleur Delacour, but she and I had been totally alone at the time, and I read Fleur's mind later on to confirm that _she_ hadn't been the one to run her mouth off.

"Right after the second task, I saw this big ugly water beetle in Hermione's hair and snatched it up, intending to flick it away or just squish it. But as soon as I touched it, I sensed a wizard's magical aura, so I stuck the beetle into a small magical container and kept it in my pocket till I could investigate it.

"Long story short, it turned out that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered animagus, and her form was that of a small beetle. No one knew she was at the school, _or_ that she could turn into a tiny bug, so I figured there was almost no risk at all of anyone ever connecting her disappearing to _me_. So I took the little bug down into the chamber, forced her back into her human form, and used her as my own personal test subject. There were _so many_ dark spells I'd been dying to try out on a real, living, person, but I hadn't been able to. Throwing spells at a giant dead snake is only so fulfilling. After a while it's just not very satisfying anymore." Potter ended with a bit of a pout and Voldemort barked a small laugh.

"So you used an Unforgivable on her?"

"Two. I used _crucio_ a couple times, and holy shite what a rush! I can't even describe how... _wow_ that was. I can see why it's so damned popular."

Voldemort smirked. "Yes, I've always been extremely partial to that one.

"Yeah, well, I basically just kept throwing stuff at her until she was no longer recognizable, and when I was finally satisfied that I was done with her, I used the killing curse. Worked on my first try."

"You're lying."

"Nope. I swear to Merlin, I got it on my first go."

"Smug little prick."

"How many times did it take you to cast the killing curse properly?" Potter asked, with legitimate curiosity in his eyes.

"My second casting."

"That's still bloody amazing. I mean, everything I read made it sound like I'd have to cast it dozens of times before I even got close to casting it properly."

"Most are unable to cast the killing curse. They simply do not have it in them."

"Well, you and I clearly do," Potter snickered.

They resumed the lesson and by the end of the hour Voldemort was sufficiently pleased with Potter's progress. He was sure that Potter would have no problems in getting the prophecy from the Seer now. He dismissed a disoriented Wormtail back to his quarters and walked Potter back to the time-turner room, still speaking the entire way there.

Potter acted as if he were on some sort of sugar-rush and was talking far more than he usually did. It was curious and yet also mildly amusing. His youthful enthusiasm was almost contagious, and Voldemort found himself snickering at the boy's jokes more than he would normally allow himself.

"Hey, if you ever decide that Wormtail has worn out his usefulness, do you think there'd ever be a chance I could obliviate the last year from his mind and hand him over to the Ministry?" Potter said as they walked down the hall.

Voldemort paused and gave the boy an incredulous look. "Why the hell would you do _that? _ I thought that if you ever wanted to do anything with him, you would want to just _kill_ him."

"Well, I'd love to do that too. Hell, I'd _really enjoy_ that. But if I hand him over to the Ministry and can get my godfather cleared."

Again, Voldemort looked at the boy with a sense of confusion.

"And why, exactly, would _I_ want Sirius Black cleared? You do realize that he was one of my more annoying opponents, don't you?"

"Was he really? Well, I guess he was an auror, wasn't he?" Potter said. "I guess, it's just that if he was cleared he could get custody of me and I wouldn't ever have to worry about someone trying to force me back to the Dursley's."

Voldemort scoffed quietly. "I sometimes forget that you're still so young. What does it matter if those fool muggles retain custody? They have custody of you now and yet you have no intention of going back to them. What difference does it make?"

Potter shrugged. "I don't know... I guess it's just sort of residual hope from last spring when Sirius first asked me if I wanted to go live with him. I really don't need, or even really want it much now, but it's still there. Besides, you should see how he's living now. It's horrible. He's literally hiding in a cave, living in rags and filth and practically starving to death."

Potter paused and observed Voldemort for a moment before smirking and rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay! I get that you didn't like the man but you don't have to look so smug about that."

Voldemort rose a single daring eyebrow, which made Potter snort and begin to chuckle.

"I _may_ take your request into consideration, but I pose you a question –" Voldemort began.

"Alright," Potter responded with a nod and giving the Dark Lord his full attention.

"If Black's name is cleared and he gains custody of you, he would expect you to stay with him during the summers, yes?"

Potter looked thoughtful for a minute and frowned. "Yes, he would."

"You can _persuade_ your muggle relatives to permit you to go where ever you please, so you will be able to come stay at the manor this summer, however you would not be able to do such a thing with Black. You wouldn't be able to come here."

"Shit," Potter grumbled and then heaved a heavy sigh. "You're right. Well screw it. Anyway, I guess I should get going. I've already eaten up almost your whole day."

"Yes you have," Voldemort drawled, causing Potter to grin.

"I'll see you tomorrow after lunch," Potter said as he leaned over and hissed the password to open the time-turner closet. "My free period is second block tomorrow; before lunch, so I'm going to try and visit Trelawney then. I don't think she has any morning classes, so I should be able to get in to see her."

"Good. I will expect a thorough report tomorrow."

Potter grinned and nodded his head. "You bet." He turned and slipped inside the closet while waving.

"Goodbye Harry," Voldemort said quietly as he saw the door begin to close. He caught the flicker of surprise from the boy's eyes from the open crack as the door slid closed.

A moment later Harry's magical signature disappeared and Voldemort once again felt that strange empty sensation that something was _missing._

He huffed out an annoyed breath and turned away from the room. He needed to catch up on his tasks, so he quickly strode towards the staircase and up to his study.

– –

Harry climbed up into the Divination classroom and looked around. It was deserted, but he had expected as much. He'd overheard Lavender Brown speaking with her friends on several occasions about how Professor Trelawney refused to have classes before noon because of some ridiculous excuse about the inner eye or auras or something, that was really just an excuse for her refusal to get up before ten am.

He had _also_ heard Lavender mentioning the divination groupies gathering in Trelawney's office before lunch for tea and biscuits on frequent occasion.

Harry strode across the divination classroom to the door in the back that he knew led to Trelawney's office. He turned and pointed his cypress wand at the hatch in the floor that was the entrance to the classroom and cast a quick locking spell on it. Next he turned to the office door and gave a gentle knock.

"Come in," came Trelawney's dreamy voice from the other side. Harry pushed the door open and quickly strode inside.

"Morning Professor," Harry said in a smooth, confident tone.

"Mr. Potter?" She blinked at him through her magnifying specs in obvious surprise and confusion before trying to rework her expression. "Ah, I was wondering when you would be coming to see me. I've Seen your desire to visit me for some time now."

Harry grinned. "I'm sure you have." He turned his back on her and pushed the office door closed, As he turned back to face her, he pulled his wand up and pointed it right at her.

"_Compellere,"_ he said in an authoritative voice as he aimed his wand at her head and focused his will upon her.

It was a relatively mild compulsion spell, that depended a great deal upon the wizard's personal strength and skill to be truly effective. Because of this, _most_ wizards couldn't use it to force a person to do anything outside of their own reasonable will. This also meant that the spell was only just barely on the dark side of gray. Not a neutral spell, but still low enough on the list to not register with the wards as a dark art.

Harry pressed his will upon her with all his strength and watched as her eyes glazed over and a dumb little smile appeared on her face.

"Good, Professor. Very good," Harry said in a calm soothing voice as he walked over and sat in the chair opposite her desk. "Now you're going to sit there and look me in the eye and you're not going to blink until I'm done. Do we have an understanding?"

"Oh, yes, of course dear. Anything for my favorite student."

Harry made a slightly disturbed face, but pushed past it as he looked into her eyes and quickly slipped inside her mind.

– –


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

First Beta Pass by Clemex

– –

When Harry arrived in the Manor he was already out of breath from having just raced through the castle, across the grounds, and towards Hogsmeade until he'd finally reached the edge of the wards.

He appeared with a now practiced ease and instantly resumed his fevered race up the stairs and towards Voldemort's study. He burst through the door with clenched teeth, and barely restrained fury. Voldemort _instantly_ sensed the boy's anger and stood to his feet just as the other entered the room.

"_THAT LYING, MANIPULATIVE, DECIETFUL BASTARD!"_ Harry bellowed as he slammed the door behind him and began to pace back and forth across the front half of the room.

Voldemort relaxed against the front of his desk and folded his arms across his chest as he observed the clearly furious boy standing before him.

"HE, HE... ARGGGH! I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!" He continued as his arms flailed in the air in angry violent motions. "Everything! Every fucking thing was – was... FUCK! He did it all! It was all fucking Dumbledore!"

"Am I to understand that you discovered the prophecy?" Voldemort said as Harry's ramblings ebbs slightly.

"Oh I fucking found it alright!" Harry snarled. "Both of them!"

Voldemort pushed himself off the desk and rose a single questioning eyebrow. "Explain."

Harry snorted, but not in humor – in disgust. "The one that your spy saw? Fake. Big, fucking FAKE. Dumbledore put Trelawney under the bloody _Imperius_ curse. The real job interview happened up in his office a day earlier, and while there, Trelawney made a _REAL_ prophecy. But the _real_ prophecy didn't exactly sound all that promising to the old goat, so Dumbledore implanted the suggestion that the interview hadn't happened and that she was to come back for the interview the next day and then he used the fucking _Imperius_ curse to make her go into a 'trance' and reenact the the 'prophecy' but replace it with one of his own wording. The one your spy witnessed was fabricated by Dumbledore in one of his _elaborate fucking manipulations_!"

The Dark Lord's eyes began to glow with a ruby red fury and his rigid posture barely concealed his inner anger. "I want to see everything you've seen. Come with me," Voldemort said as he quickly walked towards Harry and then past him, out the door. Harry followed behind, still fuming in his own right. They went to the room on the third floor filled with the strange assortment of magical items, where Harry had picked out his Cypress wand.

Voldemort went over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a large ornate basin and set it on the table in the center of the room.

"Are you familiar with pensieves?"

"Only vaguely," Harry admitted in a more subdued voice. The powerful raging fury had been stoked and by his swirling angry magic, but now that he was in the Dark Lord's presence, he felt his magic swirling much more tightly around him. He was still angry beyond words, but he felt more in control of it, which was a bit of a relief. He focused on the dark lord as he quickly explained the technique necessary for pulling out a specific memory from his mind and within a minute Harry had his cypress wand to his temple and was extracting his memory of his visit to Sybil Trelawney.

The two dipped their heads down to the pensieve at the same time and were instantly surrounded by the feeling of falling, instantly replaced by suddenly standing in headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office.

The office was very much the same as Harry knew it to be; only a few things were different. A number of the strange silver devices that puffed little wiffs of smoke, and made erratic clicking sounds were absent in this earlier version of the headmaster's office. Harry was pretty sure that at least one of the things he took note of being missing were actually used for monitoring the wards on Privet Drive, so it made sense for them not to exist yet in this memory.

Harry turned to his right and saw the Dark Lord in all his glory standing beside him, looking around the room with mild interest. Sybil Trelawney was sitting in the chair opposite the desk, while Dumbledore sat in his overstuffed chair. Trelawney was already in the middle of going on about her experience and her hereditary qualifications. Dumbledore looked visibly bored, but was putting forth a legitimate effort to feign interest.

"I managed to track this memory down after almost a solid twenty minutes of digging through her mind," Harry said quietly to the Dark Lord standing beside him. "It seems that Dumbledore was hesitant to do any really powerful _obliviations_ against her. I think he was afraid if he messed with her head too much he might screw up her gift or something," Harry said, rolling his eyes at the word 'gift'.

"That's a reasonable concern. If she had made one legitimate prophecy, she could be capable of making more. If he cast too many powerful mind altering spells on her, it could easily prevent any future prophetic visions from manifesting properly," Voldemort mused.

They waited for about twenty seconds more when Harry spoke again, "This is it. This is where the memory switches over to the prophetic vision that was stored in her subconscious with her other prophecies."

Trelawney went rigid and her eyes fogged over, completely white. Her voice went down several octaves as she began to speak in an eerie voice.

"_The only one with the power to match the Dark Lord approaches..._

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._

_The Dark Lord will come for him and mark him as his equal._

_He will have two paths from which to chose. From one path, the End will fall upon us all. From the other, we shall be saved._

_The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together, or destroy each other._

_For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives..._"

Dumbledore stood there, staring at Trelawney with a stunned, dumbfounded look, rarely seen gracing his features. Trelawney came out of her trance, coughed a few time and looked rather confused.

The memory began to dissolve away then and was slowly replaced by a new one. Trelawney was entering the Hog's Head and speaking loudly to the bar tender that she had a very important appointment with the Headmaster. She introduced herself, loudly, as Sybil Trelawney, great-great granddaughter of the great seer, Casandra Trelawney. She was being about as unsubtle as a person could be.

A rather noteworthy thing about the memory was the strange purple haze that everything had.

"_The Imperius," _Voldemort observed.

"That's what I thought too," Harry said, nodding his head. "The whole memory reeked of the _Imperius_ curse. It just has that _vibe_ to it."

The two followed as Trelawney was lead up the stairs into one of the private rooms, where she waited for a minute before Dumbledore himself showed up. Again, they went through the motions of the boring-ass interview and Harry glanced over at Voldemort. "Is there a way for me to fast-forward the memory? Or do we have to stand here through the whole thing?"

Voldemort snorted. "This is not a muggle video recording, Potter. Just have some patience."

Harry sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for the moment when Trelawney shifted into her trance and began to recite the false prophecy.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._

At this point, Harry heard a scuffle from just beyond the door, in the hallway, and if he glanced over at Dumbledore at that moment, he could see a noticeable disapproving frown.

...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."

As soon as the prophecy was done and Trelawney was coughing herself into clarity again, there was a knocking on the door and the bar keep of the Hog's Head appeared there, with a firm grip on the forearm of a much younger looking Severus Snape who was scowling at the man, angrily.

The bar keep informed Dumbledore that he caught Snape eavesdropping in the hallway, and it was just about that time that the memory began to fade away.

"So Snape was your spy?" Harry asked with absent disinterest as the pair stood there for a moment.

"Yes."

The two suddenly felt themselves 'falling' up and then found themselves back in the room on the 3rd floor, standing before the table with the pensieve on it.

"He orchestrated the false prophecy in a public place with the intent that it be overheard," Voldemort said suddenly.

"He didn't look pleased when that scuffle started in the hallway during Trelawney's performance," Harry observed.

"Clearly not. But I still got enough of the prophecy to take the action he desired of me..."

"He _wanted_ you to come after me. To kill me," Harry said darkly as he scowled angrily at his clenched fists.

"Clearly. _The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together, or destroy each other. _Obviously he would rather we destroy each other than rule."

Harry snorted humorlessly.

"_For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives... _interesting..." Voldemort mused.

"He obviously hoped that if you killed me, it would somehow destroy you, or make it so that you could be killed. The part about you not being able to die while I lived is what probably led him to that conclusion. Although it also sounds like the only way for you to die is if _I_ do it... or for me to kill you at the same time that you kill me? Sounds ridiculous, honestly... I'm also curious – I mean, saying that you can't die while I live makes sense because... well, _it's true._ But the prophecy makes it sound like _I _can't die while you live either."

"I've actually been thinking about that a while now. I suspect that there may have been some unintended effects from my using your blood in my resurrection ritual."

Harry looked up with a blank expression. "Unintended effects?" he echoed in confusion.

"I cannot say for sure the full extent of the effects at this time... while I do not think that the protection that your blood existing in me gives you, is quite as potent as the protection I have by a piece of my soul being inside you, however I suspect that it is possible that they may be similar."

"Are you saying I may be immortal?" Harry asked with a stunned expression.

"_Slightly_ resistance to death, is more likely."

Harry snorted. "Interesting way of putting it."

"Well, it is obvious that he orchestrated the false prophecy in the hopes that my attacking you as an infant would bring about my death..."

"And when _I _didn't end up dead, he must have figured that you couldn't _really _be dead either," Harry added.

"Since you were now 'marked' it only led additional credence to the prophecy."

"And the whole part about me having two paths –" Harry said.

"Yes. He probably saw that you had the potential to being a huge threat to his agenda. However according to the prophecy the only way for me to truly die was by your hand."

"So he tried to orchestrate my entire childhood. Control everything from behind the scenes. He wanted to try and make sure I went down the path that _he_ wanted. That I would fight against you and kill you, instead of joining you."

"In his deluded old mind, he's probably convinced himself that the line about '_the End falling upon us_' as being the outcome if you join me," Voldemort said then with a scoff. "Blind old fool."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that line," Harry said, turning his full attention on the Dark Lord. "_He will have two paths from which to chose. From one path, the End will fall upon us all. From the other, we shall be saved._ I remember you thinking about the End-of-Days a few times during my visions earlier in the school year. That you had some sort of task...?" Harry let the sentence draw out in an unspoken question. The Dark Lord turned and glared at him through narrow eyes.

"Have you had any more of these visions of yours?"

"No. I'd tell you immediately if I had one," Harry said with a slightly annoyed tone at having his question diverted.

"My... _task_ is complicated. Perhaps we will speak of it later, but at the moment we have other more pressing matters to discuss. Namely, this _prophecy._"

Harry gave a resigned sigh and slouched against the table he was standing beside.

"Alright so... well, it seems to me like most of the important stuff has already come to pass. I was born. You marked me as your equal. I've chosen my path already. I'm with you. Whether that leads to the end of the bloody world or our salvation, I guess only time will tell, although I suspect that _you_ may have some insight on _that_."

Voldemort rose a single challenging eyebrow, but did contribute anything.

"So the rest of it... it says that you and I will either rule together, or destroy each other. I... well, I never exactly expected to be ruling by your side. You're the Dark Lord, _not me._ I still don't really buy into this 'equal' business."

"Yes..." Voldemort said in a slow, drawn out drawl as he looked off into the room with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"And finally the last line that goes '_For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives...'_ but we already discussed that,_"_ Harry finished with a huff before looking thoughtful himself and beginning to scowl angrily again. "Bloody manipulative, lying old bastard.." he muttered under his breath.

Voldemort snorted. "Yes, quite. He even got _me_."

"Hmph... Although I wonder if any of this would have ever even started if he hadn't? I mean, if he hadn't made up the fake prophecy and made sure it got to you, somehow, then you wouldn't have come after me like you did. If you hadn't come after me, your soul would have never got lodged in me, and I never would have got my scar. You wouldn't have become immortal and I wouldn't have been 'marked' by you."

"Most prophecies are often, in some way, self-fulfilling. They require someone to know about them, and believe in them, for them to have any real power..." Voldemort said in a contemplative voice.

"Then why the hell did you come after me in the first place? If acting on it posed the risk of giving it real power?"

"It was a risk I was willing to take. It seemed idiotic and reckless to allow someone who was prophesied to be able to _vanquish_ me, to go on, when I had the opportunity to destroy him when he was still weak and defenseless."

Harry sighed and shrugged. "Can't fault your logic." Another silent minute passed and with each passing second, Harry found his mind swirling around more and more angrily at the idea of what Dumbledore had done to him.

"ARGH! I just want to fucking _curse someone!"_ Harry exploded.

"Don't be so juvenile."

"Oh please! You can't tell me that you never called in some Death Eaters and started throwing around curses just because something had pissed you off and you needed to blow off some steam?" Harry shot back.

Voldemort actually grinned and chuckled quietly. "I _may _have done that a time or two."

"I can't believe you're not more angry!"

"Oh, I'm certainly angry," Voldemort said, airily. "I am exceptionally angry that he attempted to manipulate me into destroying myself. The damned old fool doesn't even have the honor to try and take me head-on. And instead of being _honest_ with you, and simply informing you of your supposed destiny and _trusting_ you to make what he deems to be the 'right choice', he chose, instead, to manipulate you into choosing his path. Despite how infuriating all of this is, from my perspective, it is far from surprising. This is how Dumbledore has _always_ operated. The fact that it is so very _in character_ for him, is what has dulled my outward response."

Harry turned his head away and glared angrily at the floor for another long minute. Voldemort watched as Harry's jaw clenched and flexed and his hands made tight, white-knuckled fists.

"_I HATE him._" Harry hissed out in a deadly, angry voice.

"So do I."

Harry's head turned up and his eyes locked with the ruby eyes of the Dark Lord. "If I go back now, I'm liable to throw a killing curse at him the second I see him."

"That would probably not be very wise."

"How far back can that time-turner go?"

"Twenty-four hours."

Harry's breathing was heavy and he was pulling in long sharp breaths through his nose as he held is jaw tightly shut.

"Can I stay here? I mean... all day? Not go back? I _seriously_ suspect that I would end up hurting someone if I went back to the school right now. I just... I can't... I can't go back there right now. I can't... deal with _them _– Any of them. I'll just blow up and curse the daylights out of someone. I can't... I can't... I _need _to –"

"I don't doubt it," Voldemort said as he sensed the violent waves of angry dark magic _pouring and sizzling_ off of Harry. He could feel Harry reaching a breaking point, very soon.

"Is that a yes?" Harry asked, shortly, as he looked back up and once again stared the Dark Lord in the eyes.

For the briefest moment, Harry's face softened and took on an almost _pleading_ look, and Voldemort felt a strange tightening in his chest The Dark Lord nodded slowly. His response came out in a much softer and understanding tone than he ever used with anyone, but that somehow managed to slip out in that moment. "Yes, Harry. You can stay."

The shift in Harry's face and demeanor at the acceptance of his request and topped off by the use of his first name, and the soft tone it was spoken in, was instantaneous. He couldn't possibly put any sense to the flood of emotions that coursed through him in that moment. The wall that he had built up came crumbling down and everything just poured out. The grief, the horror, the anger, and absolute fury. The tremendous sense of betrayal and deceit. It had been crushing him. Suddenly the wall of emotions was replaced with relief, gratitude, and acceptance. The knowledge that he wouldn't be forced to go back to that damned castle where he had to pretend to be someone he wasn't, and play nice with all the people who did nothing but piss him off. Or at least, that he wouldn't have to go back right away... He knew he just couldn't deal with it. He just didn't have the strength in him.

Not after what he had learned. What was once a a semi-crazed theory in the back of his mind had become undeniable fact, and his mind and body didn't seem to know if it wanted to scream and rage, of collapse to the floor and cry.

He felt like his whole life had been a lie. The whole thing was constructed by Dumbledore with the intent that Harry would end up throwing his own life away in the role of a martyr for a world he had barely experienced and who were constantly turning on him. That he had been grooming Harry with the intention of him just dying in the end. And then there was the fact that Dumbledore's actions had honestly and truly been what brought about the death of Harry's parents. It wasn't just a matter of 'oh, they died and then Dumbledore stuck Harry with the Dursleys' – No, Dumbledore had brought about their demise on his own. They had been sacrifices that he had decided were worth it for his greater good. He had sacrificed Harry and his parents, and when Harry ended up surviving it, he had thrown him to the _muggles_ to break him.

It had always remained true that Voldemort had cast the actual killing curse upon Harry and his parents, but it had been Dumbledore – literally – that had painted the targets on their backs and whispered into Voldemort ear that he needed to go after them.

Some distant part of his brain felt his knees giving out as the mental and emotional exhaustion began to take over. He had been operating on adrenaline and some sort of shock. Absolute _fury_ had driven him forward like a mad man and suddenly all of that fury drained out of him, leaving him feel weak, tired, and utterly spent.

His knees hit the floor and his body slumped forward slightly, but he did not fall any further. His shoulders shook with silent, restrained sobs that he wouldn't allow to come. Part of him loathed the idea of appearing weak in front of the Dark Lord, but another part of him felt that this was the only man in the world who he could be himself around. The only man who understood him; the only man that he could honestly _trust_.

His world was spinning and his head felt heavy and pressured, like it was in a vice. At some point the tears he had been fighting so desperately to restrain had broken free of the dam and were now spilling out over his cheeks.

It was all just too much sometimes. Too much for one young man to handle. Too much to deal with. Just _too much..._

Suddenly, and without any warning, the pressure, and the spinning, and the huge heavy weight that had been pressing down upon him vanished with powerful rush of warmth and _rightness _as two arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him against the other person's chest. Harry felt himself burying his head into the neck of the other man as his body continued to shake and shudder from the sobs that had at some point, completely overtaken him. The sensation of being held by the other man was so incredibly reminiscent of being held by his companion inside his mindscape, but this was just so much _more. _So much _better._ This was _real_. This was warm and soft and comforting. And he smelled so wonderful. His voice was smooth and calming and reassuring.

The other man's hand began to run through his hair in a soft, caressing gestures that overwhelmed him with it's gentleness.

At some point, his own arms had wrapped around the other man's waist and he was clinging to him desperately. Utterly unwilling to release the man who was providing him with such comfort.

To let _Voldemort_ go.

His sobs finally began to still and he felt his body calming down as his breathing became slower and steady again.

He sniffed as he pressed his closed eyes against Voldemort's shoulder, and pulled in another deep breath of the intoxicating scent.

_Holy shit... what am I doing? And more __importantly... why is he letting me?_

Harry stilled and slowly, _very slowly, _released the Dark Lord and pulled away. He rose his head up and hesitantly brought his eyes up to meet the other man's gaze. He had no idea what he had expected to find there, but what he saw startled him. The eyes were surprisingly soft. There was honest concern in the other man's face, although it was quickly subdued as Voldemort sighed and ran a hand through his shiny black hair.

"Better?" Voldemort asked.

Harry slowly nodded his head.

"Can you stand?"

Harry swallowed the thick lump in his throat and nodded his head again. "Er, yeah, I think so," he rasped as he began to shift and stand.

Voldemort offered a hand and Harry reached out and took it, allowing the Dark Lord to pull him to his feet.

"Thank you," Harry said, ducking his head in embarrassment over having so utterly lost control of himself. "That was stupid of me. I should have better control of my emotions than that..."

"You are still young, Harry. I realize that this must be quite a lot for you to be faced with."

"It shouldn't be. It's not like I didn't already suspect things were about this bad," Harry said, shaking his head and scowling lightly at himself.

"Having suspicions and being faced with proof are two different things. Besides, it would seem that reality has proven to be even worse than your previous suspicions."

Harry closed his eyes and focused on pushing all of the thoughts and emotions out of his head and trying to just concentrate on clearing his mind.

"Come on, Harry," Voldemort's voice broke through his focus and startled him again by the casual use of his first name. He opened his eyes and blinked at the Dark Lord. He nodded his head with detached blankness, but felt his whole body relax wonderfully as he felt Voldemort's hand rest on the small of his back and begin to lead him out of the room.

Why was the Dark Lord acting this way? Why was he treating him with such gentle kindness? It was almost confusing enough to distract his mind from the overwhelming insanity of what he had discovered that morning. But not quite.

Harry finally realized that he wasn't being lead towards the stairs, but rather away from them. Another moment later he was standing in front of an unfamiliar door. Voldemort reached out and pressed the palm of his hand on the center of the door. There was a quiet _click_ and then Voldemort reached down and pushed open the door.

He took a few steps into the room, still relishing the feeling of the man's hand rested against his back when he finally took in the room and came to an abrupt halt.

"Your bedroom?" Harry whispered.

"You need to rest. You've emotionally exhausted yourself," Voldemort said easily. "I can perform my meditation exercise here while you rest."

Harry turned and blinked at the Dark Lord. That strange concerned worry was still in his eyes, but it was accompanied by a look that told Harry that there was no arguing with this. After a stunned moment passed, Harry nodded his head and allowed himself to be lead forward towards the enormous bed in the center of the room.

"Rest," Voldemort said in a commanding and yet still surprisingly soft tone. Harry nodded his head numbly and found himself mindlessly slipping off his trainers and climbing into the bed.

He lay on top of the covers, but found the bed as a whole to be exceedingly comfortable. His head sunk into the pillow and he was instantly met with the scent of Voldemort, surrounding him. His whole body melted in utter relaxation and calm. He could see the Dark Lord sitting down on the floor in the same position he always performed his meditations in and could hear as the steady, even breaths became the only sound audible through the open, airy room.

Within moments he was asleep.

– –

_What the hell was that?_

Voldemort huffed quietly and relaxed his position. He wasn't getting anywhere with his meditation. His mind was too busy churning over the prophecy, and his body and emotions were to busy being confused by his powerful reaction to Potter. To Harry...

_Damn it._

He could hear Harry's even breathing from the bed. He had fallen asleep rather quickly, but that didn't surprise Voldemort any considering how utterly spent the boy seemed. He wondered how long it had actually been since the last time Harry had allowed himself a good cry.

He'd sensed it coming before even Harry had. He could tell that the young man was on the brink of totally breaking down by his body language and the erratic nature of his magic as it swam around him. He was honestly surprised that Harry had remained coherent and rational for so long before that. He had been able to analyze and discuss the possible meanings behind the prophecy quite easily; but Voldemort suspected that he had just been running on adrenaline at that point. Once the rush died out, Harry had crashed, and he had crashed hard.

It had been shocking to Voldemort how affected he had been to witness the young man's melt down. He could not recall even a single time in the past where he had felt the honest need or desire to comfort someone. But he had felt it with Harry. He had _needed_ to do it. Needed to hold him. To try and help calm him down and ease his pain.

Voldemort did not _ease people's pain._ He caused it.

Once again he was faced with thinking about the nature of the connection he had inadvertently created between the two of them. Soul magic, and blood magic were two of the oldest and least understood branches of the dark arts. They were rarely predictable, and use of them was fraught with unintended side-effects.

He realized now that he most definitely felt something for the boy. Something he had never felt for anyone else in his entire life. Terribly protective of him. _Proud _of his progress and achievements. And definitely possessive. He cared about Harry's well-being, and not just because he held a piece of Voldemort's soul. It was more than Harry being a horcrux and wanting to keep that horcrux protected. He wanted _Harry_ protected.

Seeing Harry so utterly miserable had filled him with the strongest, most inexplicable need to _make it better_. It was so utterly _unlike him_ that it was almost frightening. He was growing incredibly attached to the young man, and for entirely irrational reasons. Logically, he knew he needed to put a stop to this. He trusted Harry too much, and trust was dangerous.

But perhaps he _shouldn't_ fight it. The prophecy made it sound like having Harry standing by his side would aid him in his task. They would prevent the End of days. Could this young man really make the difference? Could he be what was missing before? Why he could never seem to accomplish his ultimate goals? _The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together..._ Was Harry his _equal_? No, not yet. But he could be. The young wizard had the potential to be everything the Dark Lord was; Voldemort had sensed it within him. And with the piece of his soul, lodged within him, there was even the potential that he could...

Could it have become Harry's destiny to _share_ his task? Was that even possible? Never before had there been two at the same time...

He shook his head. He needed to focus on his meditation. He was so close to breaking that final barrier and being able to perform the transformation. Once he could take on his alter-ego appearance he would be calling his Death Eaters back to him, and he could truly begin to set things in motion.

He would deal with his confusion around Harry Potter later.

– –

Harry woke to sunlight pouring across his face. He blinked a few times in confusion, taking in the scene around him. Instead of his four-poster with red and gold hangings, he was in a huge, king-sized bed with ornate mahogany-carved headboard, and an emerald bedspread. The blanket and pillow he found himself laying upon was probably the finest silk he'd ever touched, and it made him just want to bury his face in it and go back to sleep.

He turned his face into the wonderfully soft fabric and took in a deep breath. Despite he having laid on it for however long he'd been there, he could still instantly detect the Dark Lord's distinctive scent in it.

Harry instantly sat bolt upright as it all came back to him in a sudden rush.

He had gone to Trelawney and forced her to sit there in a sort of a trance while he sifted through her mind. He had found the prophecy and then followed a mental strand along to the faked one that Dumbledore had concocted to fool Voldemort's spy.

Voldemort's spy... _Snape!_ He had meant to bring that up earlier, but with everything else, it had just slipped his mind.

Not like it really mattered... Was that why Snape hated Harry so much? He knew that Harry was supposedly prophesied to be the vanquisher of the Dark Lord? But that still left the question about Snape's true loyalties. Hermione sort of had a point with her insistence that Dumbledore wouldn't keep Snape around unless he either trusted him, or rather, unless he had a use for him. So what did Dumbledore want with Snape? Was Snape loyal to Dumbledore like Hermione thought, or was he loyal to the Dark Lord? And if he was still loyal to Voldemort, did Dumbledore realize that? Did he still hope to use Snape to feed the Dark Lord with disinformation? Was that why he kept him around?

Harry pushed those thoughts aside. There were far more important matters to worry about.

Harry looked around the large, posh room and found that he was alone. He reached out with his senses and he could sense that Voldemort was almost directly below him. Harry assumed that he was probably in the study.

Harry quickly climbed out of the bed, turned and tried to tidy it up some before striding quickly out of the room. Once he had reached the second floor, he'd determined that the Dark Lord was _not_ in the study, but actually in the library so he made his way there. He felt some hesitation building in his chest as he drew closer. He recalled his melt-down earlier, and how wonderful it had felt to be held by the other man, but now he felt exceedingly embarrassed by the whole thing. Not to mention confused by the fact that Voldemort had actually made the effort to comfort him.

Harry swallowed his nerves and pushed open the doors to the library. It took him a moment to locate the Dark Lord in large room. Towards the back, by a large window were a few overstuffed chairs and a chaise lounge. Sprawled out on the lounge was Lord Voldemort, himself. Harry couldn't help but think that he looked regal sitting there. He was lounging, casually, leaning against the reclined end of the chaise with a book in his hands, one leg bent up while the other was stretched out along the length of the chaise. He looked so relaxed and comfortable sitting there. Harry had long since become accustomed to seeing the Dark Lord as a _man_, and not the iconic demi-god of legend; yet still, moments like this always seemed to drive the fact home for him.

He felt a warm feeling in his chest, seeing the man sitting there in such easy comfort. He felt such a strong, and strange affection for the Dark Lord. But he was so much more than just 'the Dark Lord' to him. He wasn't just his lord and master, he was... other things as well. He had become something of a mentor, but also a... friend? That was an odd thought. And it didn't feel quite right. It wasn't sufficient enough a word. It didn't adequately live up to the feelings that filled him when he thought of the man. Harry found himself unable to properly put words to what he felt for the Dark Lord. Everything was happening so fast and it was confusing.

"Don't just stand there and gawk. Get over here," Voldemort's voice called, breaking through Harry's thoughts and causing him to realize that he'd been standing in the doorway of the library staring.

Harry ducked his head and grinned as he began to hurry across the room. As he reached the collection of seating he paused and looked at his options. There were a couple free armchairs free and yet he found the place he _wanted_ to sit was actually the floor, beside the chaise. He would be closest to Voldemort there and the Dark Lord would have easy access to Harry from there.

Couldn't he always explain the action away as an act of respect? Submission to his Lord? Sitting beneath him? That was a reasonable excuse, wasn't it? It sounded more sane than of acknowledging that he was doing it because he wanted to feel the man's fingers running through his hair.

Pushing his way past his thoughts, Harry quickly slid down to the floor and propped his back up against the chair.

"Feeling better?" Voldemort asked after a silent moment. His voice had the same, sharp, short tone that it always featured, but there seemed to be an underlying softness to it. As if he honestly cared if Harry was feeling better. And Harry honestly felt that the Dark Lord _did care._ It was strange, but it filled his chest with that warmth again and he found himself smiling softly.

"Yes... much. I'm sorry I had a melt-down. Sobbing on you like some blubbering girl. It's honestly quite embarrassing."

"I'm sure it was," Voldemort said after making a lightly amused noise in his throat. His tone shifted to a far more serious one a moment later, though. "Feeling sorry for ones self is inevitable on occasion. What is important is that you get over it _now._ Self-pity is pointless and it is a waste of time. Do you understand?"

"I do," Harry said with a determined voice. "And you're right. I know. Sitting around and moping about how utterly Dumbledore has fucked me over won't do any good. I can't fix all the things he's screwed up because they've already happened."

"Exactly. Moving forward is all we can do. We take what we've experienced and what hardships we've had to endure, and we learn from it. We grow stronger from it. Self-pity is _worthless_. Take your fury and anger and focus it into motivation. Use that to drive you in your studies and in your goals."

Harry sighed and nodded his head. A moment later he felt the long slender fingers of the Dark Lord as they began to run through his hair and he smiled. He felt his body melting into the side of the chair as the fingers rubbed calming waves of the Dark Lord's ever-present magical aura.

"I really needed this," Harry admitted with a relieved breath. Voldemort remained silent, but kept his fingers gently combing over Harry's scalp. "Thank you so much for everything. You do so much more me... I don't deserve even a fraction of the things you do for me," Harry whispered after another long, quiet, moment.

"Oh, do shut up, Harry. You do more for me than you realize."

Harry was startled by the response. He wasn't sure what was more surprising – what the Dark Lord had said, or the fact that he was still using Harry's first name instead of having reverted back to calling him 'Potter'.

"Do you have any of your homework here with you, or do you need me to fetch you something to read?"

Harry blinked and his mouth floundered for a moment. He looked around and realized suddenly that he didn't actually know where his bag was.

"I'm not actually sure if I brought anything with me," Harry admitted slowly. "I was in a bit of a hurry to get here. For that matter, I'm not even sure what I did with my bag..."

"I believe you left it in the study after you exploded in there ranting about Dumbledore being a manipulative bastard."

Harry nodded his head slowly, feeling Voldemort's fingers follow the movement and then smiling when he felt the fingers grip his hair lightly and pull him back against the side of the chaise to pull Harry's head back into a reasonable range of his relaxed hand.

"I could summon my bag to me, but I don't think it's really got anything in it I could work on."

Voldemort sighed and removed his hand from Harry's hair long enough to pull out his wand, give it a quick flick, and summon a book from one of the many bookshelves in the room. It came flying across the room and landed directly in Harry's lap. A moment later, Voldemort's fingers had re-threaded themselves in Harry's hair and Harry was cracking open the book. It was an introductory Arithmancy book and it made Harry smile to think about the Dark Lord's promise to tutor him on the subject that summer to help prepare him for transferring into the class.

It wasn't exactly the most interesting subject, but Harry knew that it could be dead useful in the creation and modification of spells and rituals. A strong understanding of Arithmancy was necessary for setting wards, and was even useful in curse-breaking. Harry had never been a big fan of numbers, but he definitely acknowledged that if he wanted to be a truly powerful wizard, he would need Arithmancy. He cracked the book open and began reading. And with the Dark Lord's help, he would hopefully succeed without too much frustration.

– –

Harry had missed lunch during his nap, and was famished by the time dinner rolled around. Mixey prepared a wonderful meal for them, and Harry and Voldemort spent the time discussing what Harry had read. Harry asked a number of questions, trying to clarify some of the points that had confused him, and Voldemort had no qualms with answering them, no matter how simple they were.

Even after food, Harry still did not feel up to returning to Hogwarts. Whenever he thought about going back he felt a disgusted grimace spreading across his face, and Voldemort clearly saw it; so he didn't even bother suggesting that Harry go back. In the moments when he was honest with himself, he would admit that he didn't _want_ Harry to leave. Instead Harry sat on the floor beside Voldemort's chair in the study while the Dark Lord read through his papers to keep up on current events and then when he continued work on some spell he was constructing.

Nagini joined them and alternated between lounging around a heated rock that Voldemort conjured; lounging on Voldemort's shoulders; and lounging in Harry's lap. At one point, Harry and Nagini engaged in a lengthy conversation about nothing of any real importance, but still, Voldemort found it utterly fascinating to watch Harry conversing so easily with his familiar. He had gotten very few occasions to witness any other humans speaking parseltongue. It was an incredibly rare talent, and the last wizard he had met who had the ability was his uncle, who he had framed for the murder of his muggle father and grandparents and gotten sent off to Azkaban. That was a very, very _long_ time ago. And he hadn't exactly spent a great deal of time in the man's presence.

As it drew closer and closer to time for bed, Voldemort could see the hesitant concern growing in the young man's eyes. To quell the concern, Voldemort called upon Mixey, rather suddenly and surprising Harry, and instructed her to prepare one of the empty bedrooms with fresh linens. The relief was visible in both Harry's face and his demeanor. He sighed, smiled, and relaxed against the chair. Voldemort resumed his on-and-off habit of playing with Harry's hair, and Harry resumed his rather new habit of stroking his fingers along Nagini's head. Voldemort was sure that it would look almost humorous – or perhaps just disturbing – to anyone who would witness the scene. This thought only made him smirk.

– –

Harry left the manor shortly after breakfast. He used the time-turner to go back a full 24-hours, which actually put him back in the castle while his earlier self was still busy performing legilimency on Trelawney. This seemed like a rather excellent idea since it gave him the opportunity to provide himself an alibi. He was confident that his memory charms would hold against the divination teacher, but the extra safety net was still nice to have.

Harry's fury had been at least slightly quelled to a more stable simmering loathing. He still found it difficult to keep the scowl off his face during lunch when he looked up at the head table and saw Dumbledore sitting there, engaging in some sort of cheery discussion with McGonagall.

Harry quickly diverted his gaze. He knew that if the man looked his way, Harry wouldn't be capable of hiding the anger from his eyes, and if the old goat saw it, he would begin to suspect that something was wrong with Harry.

Before, Harry had just hoped that his previous years of deeds and accomplishments would prevent Dumbledore from honestly suspecting him of going dark. But now that he knew that the real prophecy literally said that Harry basically had a 50/50 chance of going dark, he knew the headmaster wouldn't be quite as quick to dismiss the idea as he had hoped.

He was going to have to be a lot more cautious around the man, and really put some effort into his acting. He could only use the 'angsty teen' card so many times before Dumbledore and the other professors began to suspect it was something deeper and more insidious than an angry and frustrated, yet still perfectly normal, teenager.

Harry huffed out and refocused on his meal. He'd just steer clear of the man for a while longer. He needed more time to cool down and plan before he could risk being in his presence. Fortunately, he rarely ever had any reason to speak with him, and there was still quite a while before the next task.

– –

Harry continued his daily visits to the manor after lunch, reading and talking with Voldemort; working on his class homework in the evenings, and then working with Hermione, and occasionally Ginny on translating the book. Ginny, it would seem, had finally learned how to act like herself around him, instead of constantly stuttering, blushing, and going silent. Harry was a bit confused by her sudden change in behavior around him, but was thankful that things were no longer so awkward when around Ron's younger sister. He was finding that she was a lot more bearable to be around than Ron was. She was like a more intelligent, less lazy version of Ron, and as such, he found her a much more bearable 'friend' to spend his evenings with. The added bonus, he was still good friends with a Weasley, and Weasley's were renowned Light wizards. No Weasley would be good friends with a Dark wizard.

For reasons that were not exactly hard to figure out, Ron was less than thrilled with Ginny suddenly spending so much time with Hermione and Harry. Ron even got so frustrated that he tried to work his way into their translation sessions, but he was utterly lost, and completely bored. He had no interest in the weird, old, dead language, and didn't give a damn about what the stupid old book might have to say. As a result, he was getting to be even more whiny, and even _more_ annoying than ever. Harry even got snappy with him a few times when his patience for the ginger's moaning had hit its limit. Ron just scowled and stormed off to find Seamus or Neville to play some cards.

That week also featured the start of Harry's new dueling lessons with Voldemort. His daily visits now consisted of an hour and a half of reading while Voldemort meditated, then an additional half hour of light reading and conversation while Voldemort got caught up on the news. Harry began to ask Voldemort what sorts of news events he was looking for and keeping track of, and Voldemort began to keep up on Harry's daily strife within the halls of 'hormonal, temperamental, idiotic children', as he tended to call Hogwarts. When they finally finished their talking and reading, they would move to the ballroom and start two solid hours of dueling practice.

Harry had never experienced anything as exhilarating and exciting as learning dark arts spells and defense from the Dark Lord. Harry doubted there was a man alive who knew the subject matter as in depth and with such enthusiasm as Voldemort did.

In the beginning Harry found it very difficult to 'duel' Voldemort, simply because he was pointing his wand and firing off spells at _Voldemort. _Not because he was intimidated or scared – although he was definitely intimidated – but simply because he had absolutely no desire to attack the man. It wasn't like he honestly believed that anything he could do would hurt the man, but the knot of unease just wouldn't leave the pit of his stomach, no matter how much his rational mind knew he was being stupid.

He also often found himself becoming easily distracted by just _watching_ Voldemort. His movements were so fluid and graceful. And then he had whip like movements that put Harry in a state of awe. Voldemort was like a panther. He stalked his prey and just emanated a sense of power. He was Dark, powerful, dangerous_, _and _amazing_.

– –


	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

More than a week had passed since the dark arts and dueling lessons had begun. It was Wednesday, and Harry had slipped away from Ron after lunch, while Hermione made her way to her Ancient Runes class. Harry slipped on his cloak and pulled out the Map and activated it. He saw the second 'Harry Potter' dot entering the castle and heading towards the bathroom where he had made a habit of making his daily switch in. He slipped out past Ron, who was leaning against the wall talking with one of the Beauxbatons girls. Harry rose a single eyebrow and stifled a chuckle as he quickly hurried down the hall, under his invisibility cloak, and out of the castle.

Fifteen minutes later Harry was in the manor and climbing up the stairs to Voldemort's study. The afternoon began the same as always. Voldemort was sitting there, already into his meditative exercise. Harry could tell that the Dark Lord was getting very close to finishing the transformation, and was growing more and more curious as to what exactly the man would look like when he finally achieved it.

Harry settled down and began reading a dueling techniques book that Voldemort had had him start reading a few days earlier in preparation for their daily lessons. He kept on going, without pause, even when Voldemort stood up and then sat down in his chair to read through his papers.

As had become normal, Voldemort almost instantly began running his fingers through Harry's hair and all Harry could do was sigh and smile in content.

"I'm curious, Harry –" Voldemort began to speak, nearly a half hour later as he suddenly stood from his chair and began to move towards the door. Harry quickly jumped to his feet as he realized that Voldemort appeared to be preparing to leave the study.

"Yes?"

"I know that you used the accellerant potion and underwent the process to improve that rather impressive body of yours, but I'm wondering if you have been taking measures to maintain it?"

Harry gaped at him as he attempted to process the words that had just come out of the Dark Lord's mouth. Harry's oh-so-eloquent response was a simple, "Huh?"

"Have you been working to maintain your improved body?"

"I... wha... you mean, am I working out?" Harry asked, still confused and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that it _sounded_ like Voldemort had just called his body 'rather impressive'.

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Yes, Harry, have you been 'working out'?"

"Er... no. Not really, anyway. As I already told you, I used to get kind of physical with my dark arts practice down in the chamber. I would sort of roll around and mock dodge things. To practice falling and improve my aiming while moving. But I haven't gone down there for that in a while, so the only real exercise I've been getting is from our dueling lessons."

Voldemort gave Harry a thoughtful look for a moment before turning and heading towards the door. "Follow me," he commanded simply without pausing in his pace. Harry jogged after him until he caught up and matched the Dark Lord's long strides as the two briskly walked down the hall, down the stairs, and through one of the first floor corridors.

Harry was extremely curious as to what was going on, but knew that if Voldemort was going to tell him, he'd do it when he was good and ready to, and no sooner.

They came upon one of the doors that Harry had long ago sensed a space expansion charm behind and Voldemort opened and entered without even pausing. Harry followed but came to an abrupt halt directly upon entering. What he found was a large windowless, room with a floor that was oddly squishy beneath his feet, a couple of elevated horizontal bars attached to one wall, an assortment of strange contraptions that looked something like exercise equipment, a strange device that Harry thought vaguely reminded him of a muggle treadmill, and a weight lifting bench with a bunch of weights.

"You have a gym?" Harry asked as he gawked at the room. This was probably one of the _last things_ he expected to find in the manor house. It just looked so... _muggle_.

"Wizards are fools to neglect their bodies as they do," Voldemort drawled as he rolled his eyes and sneered in disgust. "They think that just because they can use magic to do things and avoid menial labor, that they have no need to keep their bodies fit."

Harry turned all of his attention away from the bewildering room, and focused it entirely on Voldemort. He could hear the man slipping into his 'instructor voice' and whenever he did that, whatever he had to say was important.

"The biggest reason that the unforgivable curses are _unforgivable_ isn't because of what they do – there are hundreds of curses that can kill you, control you, and cause excruciating pain – they are unforgivable because of the fact that they cannot be blocked or countered. There is no way to shield oneself from the _cruciatus_ or the killing curse or the _imperius_ – although one with a strong enough will can occasionally break free of the latter.

The killing curse can go through almost all substances. The only thing that can block the killing curse is the body of another living thing. If you have a expendable person around that you can use as a human shield, then you can shield yourself. Otherwise, the only way to avoid any of these spells is to _dodge them._

Keeping one's body in shape improves reaction time, stamina, and endurance. If two wizards are of generally equal magical skill levels, the one with the best ability to dodge, and the endurance to last the longest, will be the winner. And since so many wizards disregard the importance of training their body, in addition to their magical training, it is an extremely easy and beneficial advantage to gain."

"How often do you work out in here?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to the room.

"Every morning. I get up fairly early and spend an hour in here each day. I have done so since the morning after my resurrection."

"Oh... wow," Harry said, rather lamely, before he refocused on the room again as he imagined what all the different exercise 'machines' were for. They were obviously of Voldemort's own creation, and had been magically constructed. Still, it was obvious that they were intended for various forms of exercise.

"I want you to join me each morning at 7:30am. Can you manage that?" Voldemort asked, pulling Harry sharply out of his mental wanderings.

"Join you?" Harry echoed in surprise.

"Yes. I think it would do your dueling practice an enormous good if you began a physical training program as well."

Harry's jaw floundered as he searched for the words to respond with that could adequately relate just how the idea made him feel. There were so many reasons to be utterly thrilled with it. For one thing, it gave him even more time each day with the man, who was quickly becoming the central focal point of his life. Any reason to spend more time with the man was welcome. Harry just felt so much... _better_ around Voldemort. Everything fit better in his head. His mind worked faster and clearer. His temper was easier to keep control of. The constant itch and drive to curse everyone he saw was easily controlled. Everything felt better here. The second reason Voldemort's suggestion left him speechless and stunned was the fact that Voldemort had to actually _want_ Harry around more too. Why else would he be offering something that would require Harry to intrude on even more of the Dark Lord's precious time.

He finally gave up on trying to voice his emotions and just nodded his head.

"Good. You can use the time-turner when done, of course. So you should be able to avoid any suspicion about additional strange absences. Obviously robes are far too cumbersome for activities such as what we'll be doing in here. Try to dress appropriately. Loose-fitting clothes are more apt to get caught in some of the devices I've created, so try to avoid them. If you have nothing appropriate, we can transfigure something for you when you come tomorrow.

"Also, I am nearly done with my transformation meditations, but not quite, so I still want you continue to come after lunch," Voldemort continued, and Harry quickly confirmed that he would still be coming for his other usual visits.

"We will continue the dueling practice after my meditation is completed. With all of the added hours and time-turner use, it may become necessary for you to fit in an extra meal, and perhaps a nap. If that become the case you can stay for dinner at the manor, and make use of the same room you stayed in last week, before using the time-turner to return to the castle."

Voldemort continued to lay out the plans for Harry's schedule and Harry couldn't help the wide, warmed smile that spread across his face as he realized how much thought Voldemort had put into his plans involving Harry. He truly couldn't believe the amount of time each day that the Dark Lord was willing to spend with and dedicate to Harry, and he felt a small pang of sadness when he thought about how it would likely all change once Voldemort finally succeeded at his transformation, and brought the other Death Eaters back into the fold. Once he was able to take on his 'scary Dark Lord' look again, he would begin tackling his plans, head-on, and Harry doubted that Voldemort would have nearly as much time to throw away on him.

He pushed back the niggling worry and refocused on the man standing before him, and explaining what some of the different 'machines' were and what muscles groups they worked. Harry was stunned how much the Dark Lord knew about the whole physical fitness thing. What 'muscle groups' aided in what sorts of movements, and what kinds of exercises and movements were necessary to work out each of those groups. But then Harry realized that there wasn't anything that Voldemort did 'half-assed', and realized he never should have been surprised in the first place. Whenever Voldemort decided to learn about something, he buried himself in the topic, and didn't put it down until he was a master of it. The Dark Lord consumed knowledge and skills like a starved man in a buffet. A trait that had always left Harry feeling inspired and determined to master as many things as well.

Harry left the manor that day finding himself feeling both anxious and eager for the next morning's exercise session. He'd never done an awful lot of physical exercise outside of quidditch, and riding a broom really wasn't all that physically intensive – outside of needing a strong grip with both his hands and his thighs. Still, the thought of being physically trained by Voldemort was exciting. He just hoped he could keep himself from acting like an idiot.

– –

Harry entered the 'gym' the next morning at 7:25am. Slipping away from his dorm had been extremely easy. None of his roommates were early risers, as were few Gryffindors, so even the common room was empty when he slipped down under cover of his invisibility cloak.

Getting up at 6:30am hadn't been terribly difficult since he'd been going to bed earlier and earlier lately. Since he'd been living longer days than normal, by the time it was 10pm at night, he had usually gone through enough hours in the day that it would have been after 2am for him. His new tendency for going to bed early had been just one more thing for Ron to gripe about, but Harry didn't honestly give a damn what Ron griped about. He knew he still needed to come up with some sort of strategy for diverting the suspicions of Ron and the other Gryffindors. His little rant to Ron and Hermione had given them the illusion that he was still willing to confide in them, and given them some things to think about. Hopefully enough to keep them from suspecting what was really going on. His evenings spent with Hermione and Ginny was helping to ease some of his fellow housemates concerns about his extreme reclusive behavior earlier in the year, and since he wasn't disappearing away to the chamber for hours a day, he at least no longer appeared to be sneaking off. Hopefully all the changes he had made over the last month would be enough, but he needed to make sure that when Dumbledore started asking his 'friends' questions, over the summer, after Harry 'vanished', that none of them would start telling the old goat that they were worried about Harry's strange Dark behavior.

When he got to the manor, he went to the second floor where the loo he usually used was, since he only knew of the large bath with the sunken tub on the first floor, and there were just far too many unidentified rooms down there to go searching for a 'normal' bathroom. Once on the second floor he changed into the clothing he had brought with him. He had a pair of gray draw-string sweatpants that he occasionally slept in during the winters, and a white sleeveless t-shirt that he had shrunk down so that it was fairly tight against his torso to avoid it catching in any of the exercise equipment. He hoped it would be sufficient. He suspected he was going to need to do some clothing shopping soon. There was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, but he wasn't sure if any of the stores in the tiny wizarding village would carry what he needed.

He left his bag in the study and made his way downstairs to the gym. Voldemort was in the center of the open part of the room, and what Harry saw made him freeze in place in stunned awe. Voldemort was wearing comfortable-looking black cotton pants, and _no shirt._ He was doing push-ups, and Harry could already see the smallest indication of sweat appearing on the man's back.

The lean, lithe, and only lightly muscled body that he had seen a month earlier had already come a long way. The muscles were more defined now, but not overly so. Definitely not 'body builder' muscles, but this was undeniably the body of a strong, and powerful man who did not slack off.

Harry was stunned out of his dumbfounded staring by Voldemort pushing himself up onto his knees, and then standing to his feet. If Voldemort had realized Harry was staring, he didn't say anything. Instead, he quickly began to go over the schedule for the next hour, and discussing how Harry would work up to certain goals over time. Harry's head was quickly being filled with new concepts and knowledge, and he was being set to the machines he would use.

Voldemort demonstrated the proper way to move his arms while pushing out on one device, and pulling in on another. How to hold his elbows at a certain angle, and what things not to do, to avoid injury. During the demonstrations, Harry occasionally found his mind wandering back to Voldemort's exposed torso, and he found a growing fascination with the way the older wizard's muscles moved and twisted beneath his skin. But Voldemort loudly scolded him whenever he seemed distracted, so Harry quickly learned to pay attention and stay focused.

He returned to the school that morning sweaty, sore, and yet strangely exhilarated. He knew this was going to be hard work, but he was excited for it, too. The rest of the week passed easily enough, and while his strangely lengthened days were really starting to mess with his internal clock, he was slowly growing accustomed to them.

Voldemort incorporated lessons from his dueling into his morning exercises, and vice-versa. The break in the middle of the day where he just sat and read while Voldemort meditated was a welcome break from the action and activity of the rest of his time spent in the manor, and he found himself eagerly anticipating the light conversation and discussions they had after the Dark Lord was done with his meditation. Harry was even beginning to understand why Voldemort read the muggle newspapers.

Harry was stunned when Voldemort began to explain some sort of mass genocide that had been going on the previous year in Rwanda. Apparently before all the fighting was done, more than 800,000 had died during the Hutu-controlled Rwandan army attempt to exterminate the Tutsi minority from the country. Harry had trouble fathoming the fact that in the span of 100 days, over 800,000 people had been massacred and he hadn't heard a single word about it. There were loads of muggleborns at the school – didn't a single one take a muggle paper?

He could understand that most parents probably wouldn't write to their child about horrible African genocides, but it still seemed like such a _big deal_.

"Yes, but even most muggles are utterly ignorant of what has gone on over there, though," Voldemort said, after Harry voiced his shock at having heard absolutely _nothing_ about this.

"What? How can they be?"

"Few people give a damn about some tiny African country that tried to annihilate itself last summer, Harry."

"Then why are you paying attention to it?"

"Genocide. It's described as the largest act of genocide since the Holocaust."

Harry felt himself freeze slightly, and he was almost afraid to ask the next question. It was one thing for him to kill Rita Skeeter and not feel remorse, but killing an entire race of people was something that he didn't exactly think he could live with.

"Are you thinking about wiping out all the muggles or something?" Harry asked, cautiously.

Voldemort barked out a harsh laugh. "No, Harry. I no longer have any ridiculous illusions about trying to rid the world of the muggle filth."

"You don't?" Harry asked, both relieved and surprised, as he twisted around and looked up at Voldemort, sitting in his chair.

"No, honestly I don't think it will be necessary. They will likely rid the world of themselves, saving me the trouble."

Harry scrunched up his face in mild confusion – not sure what the Dark Lord meant by that, but he didn't get the chance to ask, as older Wizard continued to talk.

"The fact remains, that at one point, I _did_ have some rather ignorant aspirations of killing off most, and subjugating the rest, of the muggle population. Many of my followers will likely still hold some of those aspirations. I simply want to be able to provide them with with concrete arguments as to why such efforts would not only be ineffective, but idiotic, and a waste of our energies. We have bigger problems to deal with that will already require more than enough time and energy."

"Ah... well, that's... a relief," Harry said, turning back and leaning against the chair again.

Voldemort chuckled and let his hand fall into Harry's raven hair.

"Don't think you have the stomach for genocide?" Voldemort snickered.

Harry shrugged. "Probably not. Besides, I don't see the logic in it. Or how it would even work. There are just _so many more_ of them, than us. Sure, we're superior to them, and can do things that they can't even imagine doing, but that doesn't mean that they're weak or stupid. They're still humans, and it's when humans are desperate that they accomplish the most unexpected things. Their science is still capable of some insane things. I mean, they can go to the moon. Magic can't even do that.

"If they found out about us – about magic – and felt threatened... I can only see that being very very bad. We can use magic, but there's just so many _more_ of them," Harry finished with a sigh and a shrug.

Voldemort hummed in agreement and their conversation slipped back into other topics from the newspaper.

– –

Another week had passed and Harry was feeling extremely comfortable with his daily arrangement. He was having a little trouble staying focused in his classwork – having started to find it exceedingly boring. Very little of it had any practical daily value, and he had very little enthusiasm for learning things that would never serve him in his life. Especially when he had the incredibly fascination and exhilarating lessons from Voldemort to compare.

But at least his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes with Barty – or rather, with 'Moody', were interesting. Voldemort had had Harry deliver several notes to Barty, and Barty would give Harry letters to give back to the Dark Lord when he returned Harry's written essays to him. One day in class, 'Moody' had asked Harry to hang around after class to 'discuss his homework'. Moody had acquired an object for the Dark Lord and since Harry went there every day anyway, it was decided that Harry should just take it with him. It was a reasonably small box. Moody had hallowed out a book and placed an expansion charm inside it so that when the book was opened, inside was a hole large enough for the box. He gave it to Harry with the guise that it was something he might find helpful for the next task, and sent him on his way.

While leaving defense and making his way through the empty halls towards the Great Hall for dinner, Harry came across a pair of familiar, hushed voices. He slowed and peaked around the corner towards where he heard the voices and saw Snape and Karkaroff in the middle of a whispered argument. Harry wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, and was about to pull out his wand to use his eavesdropping charm when he was startled by another familiar, and far more annoying drawl.

"Potter, _what _are you doing?" the annoying drawl of Draco Malfoy came suddenly, causing Harry to jump with surprise at having been come upon without having noticed. Apparently Snape and Karkaroff heard Malfoy's voice because their whispers stopped and they both turned towards the sound.

Harry turned and scowled at Malfoy. Apparently his glare was fierce enough that it gave Draco pause because the blond Slytherin's eyes betrayed a moment of fear and hesitation before they hardened to his normal confident sneer.

Harry was a bit surprised by Malfoy's behavior. The blond Slytherin had been mostly avoiding him ever since their encounter several months prior. Apparently enough time had passed that Malfoy had either forgotten what happened, or decided it wasn't bad enough to continue keeping his distance.

"Malfoy, I really don't have time for you," Harry said with an annoyed sigh.

"So it's Malfoy again? Are you over whatever weird thing possessed you over Christmas?"

Harry snorted out a laugh. "Hardly," he said giving the blond boy a leering smirk that caused Malfoy to straighten a bit and his eyes to widen. Harry snickered at Malfoy's reaction and began to turn away.

"Where are you heading off to?"

"Dinner," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Running off to the mudblood and the weasel?" Malfoy sneered.

"Well, you know. Gotta keep up appearances. Wouldn't want anyone suspecting me of going _dark,_" Harry chuckled.

Malfoy's eyes bugged out of his face and he stood there, dumbfounded for a moment while Harry began to walk away.

"Wait!" Malfoy called out as he jogged after Harry and caught up to him. Harry huffed and stopped. He looked around anxiously, making sure that there weren't any witnesses. There weren't as far as he could tell. Snape and Karkaroff had vanished – most likely to somewhere more private to continue their argument – and the rest of the student body was already at dinner.

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry asked with a resigned sigh as he took out his wand and cast a small privacy ward around them.

"What's up with you? You've been acting normal again lately, but I see the looks you give them. The looks you give _everyone._ The way you walk, the way you hold yourself. And more than anything else, when I get close enough, you _reek_ of dark magic."

Harry had to take pause of that proclamation. If Draco could tell he'd been practicing the Dark arts, what was stopping the professors? Or _Dumbledore? _Apparently something on Harry's face gave away his moment of panic because Draco was rolling his eyes and quickly began to speak again.

"Don't worry, Potter. It's only those with a dark affinity who can sense it. Neutrals and Lights only sense the magic of other Neutrals or Lights."

"Even someone like Dumbledore?" Harry asked, skeptically.

"Do you feel his Light magic?" Malfoy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Er..." Harry paused, trying to think if he did. "I think I used to... But now that you mention it, I really haven't been able to feel that same energy that I used to when I was around him."

"Exactly – wait... _you used to_?"

"Well, my affinity definitely used to be Light. I'm sure of that."

"But _now_ it's _Dark_?" Malfoy asked, a tremendous curiosity glowing in his eyes.

Harry clammed up and gave Malfoy a hard look.

Malfoy chuckled and smirked. "Smart, Potter. Never admit anything aloud."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've still got a problem though, even if Dumbledore can't sense my Dark magic. My affinity was set to Light before." Harry mused quietly to himself.

Malfoy snorted. "As if anyone would ever honestly suspect the Gryffindor Golden-boy of going _Dark. _Besides, Dumbledore would only notice the lack of Light magic traces on you. He can't just _tell_ that your affinity has changed. They need a spell for that I think."

Harry glared at Malfoy. "I told you not to call me that. I'm no one's Golden-boy. Besides, _you _suspected me of going dark."

"Only after you _assaulted me,"_ Malfoy said indignantly with his nose turned up.

Harry chuckled and gave the blond another leering look that clearly made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable. "Besides, you weren't the only person I got angry with," Harry said finally with a bit of a grumble. "I was a pretty angry mess there for a while..."

"That's what was going on!" Malfoy exclaimed suddenly, as if he had just made a great discovery. Harry looked at him with confusion, and an expectant look. "You were dealing with Dark addiction, weren't you! And now you've got a handle on it, which is why you're able to pretend to be normal again!"

Harry blinked at Malfoy. "Uh... maybe," Harry found himself admitting hesitantly. "You seem to have some personal experience here... How much Dark magic have you practiced?"

Malfoy scoffed and turned his nose up again. "I'm a _Malfoy, _Potter. What do _you_ think?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but grinned and snickered.

Suddenly Harry paused and felt his blood run cold. If anyone who practiced the Dark arts could sense that _he_ had practiced them, that would mean that Snape, and Karkaroff would know. Karkaroff was possibly not a problem, but Snape most certainly was.

Thinking back, the Potions master had been giving him some rather odd looks lately.

"How long have you been able to feel the dark magic on me?" Harry asked suddenly.

Malfoy blinked at the sudden shift in the conversation. "Well I can only feel it like... now. Now that I'm right next to you. You have to be really close."

"Shit," Harry muttered as he scowled at the wall beside him.

"What? It's not like anyone in the school who practices the Dark Arts would ever betray another Dark wizard to _Dumbledore_. And you don't exactly get that close to any of us Slytherins. You don't have to –"

"Snape," Harry said, resolutely.

Malfoy looked surprised, then confused, and then he looked like he was going to laugh. "Don't be stupid, Potter. Severus isn't really loyal to that stupid old man. He's as Dark as they come."

Harry shook his head. "Even if that's true, he hates the ground I walk on. I can see him just _loving_ the opportunity to destroy my reputation as the _beacon of the light_, and crush Dumbledore's idea of me being the perfect good guy he sees me as."

_This_ seemed to give Malfoy pause, because he looked thoughtful now.

"Hmmm... well, he certainly _does_ hate you."

After a silent moment, Harry huffed and ran a hand through his messy black hair. It was getting longer and shaggier as the months went on, and he was thinking that he probably would start letting it grow out. Voldemort really seemed to enjoy the length. Harry shook his head, refocusing on the problem at hand and letting his hand fall to his side.

"Well, it's something I'm going to have to deal with soon, but for now, there's nothing I can do."

Malfoy gave Harry a long hard look but then nodded his head. "So... so what the hell, Potter? I mean... how did this happen? How did _you_ go Dark? It just... it just doesn't..." Malfoy gave a frustrated growl and shook his head.

Harry began to laugh at the other boy's frustrated confusion, which really only caused Malfoy to scowl at him.

"What!" Malfoy spat angrily.

Harry's chuckled subsided a bit and he shook his head with an amused grin. "It's a very _long_ story, and I highly doubt you'd believe a word of it. But the fact of the matter is, you already know too much. I need your word that you aren't going to start running around the school telling people that I'm going Dark. And if you can manage it, think you can keep an eye on the Slytherins who practice the Dark Arts, who start to notice me too?"

"Why the hell would I do that for _you?_" Malfoy sneered.

Harry's eyes narrowed on the blond boy for a moment before he smirked. He glanced around the empty corridor again, just for safety's sake. His privacy ward wouldn't let anyone year them, but he still didn't want anyone seeing him talking with the Slytherin boy.

"Tell me something, _Draco,_" Harry began, moving a step closer and causing the Slytherin to tense up and look wary. "Is _daddy_ still loyal to the _Dark Lord_?"

Malfoy's eyes hardened and his jaw tightened. "My father never –"

"Don't blow smoke in my face, Draco, I'm not stupid. How about this. Where do _your_ loyalties lie? With the Dark? Or not?"

"My loyalties lie with the Dark," Malfoy said, standing tall and raising his nose into the air again.

Harry smirked. "So would you be loyal to the Dark Lord when he returns?" Harry asked in a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned into Malfoy's 'personal space'.

Malfoy looked slightly taken aback, and gave Harry a long scrutinizing look. He was probably debating the dangers of admitting this statement out loud to _Harry Potter_, of all people – Dark magic, or no. Harry figured he was probably also taking note of the fact that Harry said 'Dark Lord' and not, 'You-Know-Who', or 'Voldemort' – as many people knew Harry had been apt to do in the past. And _then_ there was the fact that Harry had said '_when_' he returns; not 'i_f'_.

Finally, Malfoy squared his shoulders and stuck his chin, pompously high. "I would be loyal to the Dark Lord."

Harry's grin widened and he took a step back, giving the blond some of his personal space back.

"Good to hear that Draco."

"That doesn't tell me why I should keep your secret, or why I should watch the other Slytherins for you," Draco spat.

"I suppose it doesn't..." Harry mused, airily. "But it really would be in your best interest if you helped me out. That's what being Slytherin is all about, isn't it? Finding ways to serve your best interests, while making powerful connections and climbing the ladder to greatness?"

Malfoy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "And helping you would benefit me, _how?_"

Harry paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "You remember back on the train ride before first year when you stuck your hand out, offering friendship and I was a stupid little soon-to-be-Gryffindor prat, sitting next to the weasel and I turned you down?"

Malfoy's face hardened and his look shifted to a glare. "Yes, I remember."

"I probably should have taken it and left Weasley behind," Harry said with a shrug. "Did you know the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin? I begged it not to, so it stuck me in Gryffindor instead."

Malfoy looked dumbstruck by this proclamation. He also seemed to be rendered speechless by it, because he didn't say anything in return.

"Anyway, you really should tell your daddy to be prepared, because his Lord is back and will be calling on him soon. Can you do that for me?" Harry said, having suddenly shifted to a playful and patronizing tone as he reached up and gave a light, pat on the stunned blond's cheek before taking a step back and grinning evilly.

After a few silent seconds where Malfoy appeared too confused to comprehend what had just been said, his face went pale, and understanding dawned behind his gray eyes. "You're lying," Malfoy said in a disbelieving whisper.

Harry's smirk only grew larger. "Ask daddy if anything interesting happened to his mark on March 20th. Probably hurt a bit, but it also probably glowed and pulsed with power. That was the night it happened. He's already back."

"How do _you_ know?" Draco asked, but his voice was still hardly more than a whisper.

Harry gave the other a toothy, wicked grin and leaned in close.

"I know," Harry began in a quiet whisper, "because I was there."

– –

"That was stupid and reckless," Voldemort sneered as the two walked down the hall towards the gym.

"I made him swear a wizards oath that he wouldn't tell anyone," Harry grumbled.

"You should have made him swear it _before_ you told him anything of value!"

"Yeah, but he never would have agreed to it, then! Besides, he knows that if he blabbed you'd probably have him killed. He's terrified of you."

"Stupid boy. You just wanted to show off," Voldemort spat and Harry pouted. "Anyway, what was it that you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh! Right, so how come you never mentioned to me that people with a dark affinity can detect other people with it?"

Voldemort stopped and turned to give Harry an incredulous look before shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I suppose I assumed you knew. Besides, it doesn't exactly work like that. People with a Dark affinity can detect an excess of dark magic use from another person, but they cannot simply tell what people's affinity is. If they could, there would be less value in the _affinitatum reveleo_ spell. Are you telling me that you don't sense dark magic use on others?"

Harry paused and looked thoughtful. "Well, I _do_, but I haven't encountered anyone who had practiced Dark magic while at school. Just here, and occasionally I can feel it on Barty in class. But I've already told you about my weird magic senses. No one else I know ever seems to sense half the things I do. And I know I didn't feel most of this stuff back when I was blowing through all my magic keeping your soul at bay. So I sort of assumed that most people weren't sensing any of these things."

"That is true," Voldemort said with a sigh. "That was something that often confused me in my youth as well."

"So is there anyway I can keep other wizards with a dark affinity from being able to tell I've been casting a bunch of dark magic lately? I'm really worried about Snape blabbing to Dumbledore."

Voldemort scowled and then took on a contemplative look. He remained quiet for a long moment and Harry found himself suddenly realizing that he still had yet to ask Voldemort about the fact that it was _Snape_ of all people, who had relayed the prophecy.

"Let's continue this conversation this afternoon," Voldemort said suddenly, startling Harry. "This is an important issue and we need to work through it. You're right that it's important, but we don't have the time to dedicate to it now. Gym first."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut and sighed.

"Fine, but this afternoon can we also talk about the fact that Snape was the spy who witnessed the prophecy too?" he said as the pair resumed their journey and quickly entered the gym.

"Yes, that is part of what we need to discuss."

Harry shrugged, glad that this wasn't something he was going to have to drag out of Voldemort through subtle prodding.

The pair quickly slipped into the routine that they had developed over the last two weeks. Harry was reluctant to leave when their work-out was over, but knew he'd be coming back after lunch and that they'd have plenty of time to discuss things then.

– –

"Severus's loyalties are of a legitimate concern," Voldemort began as he leaned back in his desk chair after having just finished his meditation. Harry quickly put away his book and stuffed it back into his book bag before leaning back against the side of the chair and turning his head to look up at the Dark Lord.

"You are aware that he was the spy that provided me with the first portion of the fake prophecy," Voldemort began again and Harry nodded. "Shortly after you were born, and I determined that you were the most likely subject of the prophecy, Severus came to me and pleaded that I spare your mother."

At this Harry almost choked. He turned around and gaped up at Voldemort in stunned silence. "What! Why?" he finally asked.

"It would seem that he was rather infatuated with her. Apparently they were childhood friends. He said that he knew her even before attending Hogwarts."

Harry's jaw floundered in continued shock. He couldn't even fathom what was being told to him. _Snape was in love with his mum!_

"Since he was the servant who had brought the prophecy to me in the first place, and I still had yet to reward him for that deed, I agreed to _try_ to give Lily Potter the opportunity to step aside. Of course, I would make no such promises in regards to you or your father, but he made no such requests."

Harry snorted. "Of course not. He _hated_ my dad."

"Yes," Voldemort drawled with a smirk. "Many people did."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"It is my belief," Voldemort continued, "that he did not believe that I would spare Lily. Or at the very least, she would not be willing to stand aside and allow me to kill you."

Harry's mouth formed a small frown as a blurry memory of screamed voices echoed through his mind.

"_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now."_

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -"_

"_This is my last warning -"_

"You did give her the chance..." Harry said quietly. Voldemort gave him a funny look, but continued.

"I believe that Severus went to Dumbledore at that point to warn him that you and your parents had been targeted. He soon there after came to me and told me that he had an opportunity to gain employment at Hogwarts as the new Potions instructor. The obvious insinuation was that he could go there to spy for me against Dumbledore. Obviously I was not so stupid as to simply fall for that."

"So you think that it was Dumbledore's idea? He wanted Snape to spy on you for him?" Harry asked.

"Precisely."

"And you think that the reason he went to Dumbledore in the first place was because he wanted to save my mum?" Harry continued with a hint of incredulity in his voice.

"Correct."

"But it failed. My mum died anyway, and I lived. So would he still be loyal to Dumbledore even though he failed on his end?"

"That is the question. I also imagine that Dumbledore would have required some form of proof of sincerity from Severus. Most likely an unbreakable vow."

Harry's eyes widened. "What do you think he vowed? To stay loyal to Dumbledore?"

"That would be the most troublesome. But it is possible it was something else. I can imagine Severus making an effort to avoid a vow such as that. Vowing his eternal loyalties to any one man is simply not something he would ever be stupid enough to do."

"Not even to you?" Harry asked, incredulously. Voldemort just laughed.

"He is a Slytherin, Harry. No one makes life-long commitments in Slytherin, unless they are sure that they can worm their way out of them, should the desperate need arise."

Harry nodded his head in understanding. "Alright, so what should we do about Snape?"

"You are correct that his remains a risk as long as we are unsure of where his loyalties lie. He can undoubtedly detect the excessive amount of dark magic on you from our dueling sessions, and a daily cleansing ritual would be far too annoying and time consuming. I am going to need to identify where his loyalties lie sooner than later..." his voice trailed off as his face took on the look that Harry had come to associate with his deep planning and scheming. Harry remained quiet to allow the older wizard time to think, and enjoyed the feel of the Dark Lord's fingers as they slipped into his hair.

Harry was almost lulled into a relaxed nap before Voldemort spoke again. "Alright, I have a plan, but I will need the rest of the afternoon to prepare an object for it. We will have to postpone today's dueling lesson."

Harry frowned for a moment as he felt a pang of disappointment, but he quickly pushed it away. This was more important, and he knew it.

"You will assist me," Voldemort continued and Harry's mood instantly perked up as he was consumed by curiosity.

Voldemort stood up and motioned for Harry to follow. The two quickly left the study and began to head downstairs. Harry was, once again, led to one of the doors he had never entered before and once it was opened, he found a stairwell reside behind it. Harry followed Voldemort down into the manor's basement, that, until that moment, he hadn't even known existed. At the bottom of the stairs was a short hall with only two doors. One of the doors was large, heavy, and Harry could feel it was heavily warded.

"What's back there?" Harry asked as he jerked his head towards the door.

"That is where I have begun to set up holding cells," Voldemort said dismissively as he began walking to the other door.

"Holding cells?" Harry echoed in surprise.

"Yes. The spells and protections are still rudimentary and will need far more work before I can consider them secure enough to make frequent use of them. Although, there is already one person enjoying a stay down there."

"There is! Who?"

"Barty's dear old father," Voldemort drawled with a chuckle.

"Mr. Crouch is down there!" Harry said, looking back over his shoulder towards the door. "Why keep him alive at all?"

"Polyjuice ingredients," Voldemort said flippantly.

"Does he need to be alive for that? Can't you just take a bunch of his hair and keep it?"

"Once the person has died, any hair removed from them is no longer viable for the potion. It's also why Barty has had to keep Moody alive."

"Oh. Huh. I didn't actually know that."

Voldemort continued in his journey as he led Harry through the other open door and into a large open room with rows upon rows of shelves along the walls, several large tables in the center, and a collection of various sized cauldrons. Harry blinked at the room as he finally entered and took it all in. It was clearly a rather elaborate potions lab, and Harry was impressed by the massive inventory of ingredients that filled the shelves.

"Wow," Harry said as he looked around. "When did you have time to build up such an inventory?"

"Mixey has been busy," Voldemort said, turning his head back and smirking at Harry.

"My potion brewing skills are really only so-so, so I can't guarantee I'll be a lot of help down here," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"You will be sufficient, Harry. I simply require a second set of hands. Now, lets get started."

– –


	23. Chapter 23

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Severus Snape knew that there was something going on with Harry Potter. He had thought that he sensed the barest indication of Dark magic from the boy several months prior, but he had dismissed it as nonsense, and figured he was probably just detecting it from one of the Slytherins in the class. Aside from Potions, he never had to get close enough to the Potter brat to have the opportunity to detect anything like that. But the last two weeks were different.

The magic was strong and powerful, and it was not all Potter's. Some of it was clearly the magical residue of having been around when someone _else_ cast some very powerful, dark magic, and that someone else was oddly... _familiar_. He just couldn't quite place it...

He had considered informing the Headmaster of his concerns, but had not yet found an appropriate opportunity. He also knew that Albus would never even consider the possibility that _Harry Potter _was dabbling in the Dark arts, unless he had some sort of evidence. But _he knew._ There was definitely _something_ going on with Potter.

Yet despite these concerns, Severus never even considered that Harry Potter could have had _anything_ to do with the letter he received at breakfast that morning. It was delivered with the rest of the post during breakfast, by an unfamiliar owl, in an unremarkable envelope, and with unfamiliar writing.

Severus took the letter cautiously and waved his wand over it to detect any enchantments that might be cast upon it. When you were as unpopular a teacher as he was, one simply did not open unexpected mail without being cautious. One spell did appear to be cast upon it, but it was a fairly common one that wasn't threatening. It was merely a charm that would make sure that only the intended recipient – Snape, himself – could open the letter. Aside from that one spell, there did not appear to be any other spells cast upon it so he broke the wax seal and opened the letter.

Something about the parchment felt off; almost slightly greasy beneath his fingertips, but he dismissed it at first. That is, until he actually _read_ the letter.

_Severus Snape,_

_By this point, you may have noticed that this letter has been soaked in Coridoted Solution. Being the potion master that you are, I assume you know what that means. You have twenty four hours to administer the antidote. If you want it, you will have to meet me in the Hog's Head tonight at 11:00pm. Simply arrive and tell the barman that you are there for the private room. I will be waiting._

_Through the solution I am binding your actions. Tell anyone – Dumbledore or any of your colleagues anything of this letter or the meeting and you will die. This would be most unfortunate as I do not desire your death, merely your presence. There are important matters that we must discuss, but I do not as yet trust you to keep this meeting to yourself without added incentive. Hopefully measures such as this will not be necessary in the future._

_Only you can read the print on this letter, and should anyone else be unfortunate enough to touch it, they would not live beyond the day, therefore I recommend you destroy it immediately, but that is up to you. It will dissolve on its own by the end of the day._

_I'm looking forward to speaking with you tonight._

_I suspect that you will find the things I have to say, most enlightening. _

It was unsigned. Severus suddenly realized that his hands were shaking as he stared down at the parchment laying on the table before him. He had dropped it the moment he read the first line about the Coridoted Solution – but of course, by then, it was already too late.

Deadly poison, and a powerful compulsion, all mixed in one. With this solution he really wouldn't have any choice but to show up. Even without the threat of his impending death and the promise of an antidote, the compulsion magic built into it would drive him mad if he did not go.

Knowing that touching it again would not change anything, Severus picked it back up and quickly sniffed at it. He closed his eyes and grimaced when he clearly detected the scent of fel essence and grell blood. He almost groaned aloud, but managed to restrain himself.

It required a masterful brewer to properly prepare the Coridoted Solution. Severus himself would probably have a hard time with it, although it would be a challenge he would relish.

Slowly, Severus folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. He would run one more test to confirm that it really was true, but he already knew it was. He had no choice. He would have to go to the meeting. All he could do was hope that the sender of the letter was being honest and truly did not wish for his death.

– –

Harry stood to the side of the base of the stairwell in the Hog's Head bar under his invisibility cloak and with a silencing spell cast upon himself so that he wouldn't make any noise on the creaky wooden floor. He had already arranged for the private room, while under a glamored disguise, and had just visited it to prepare a privacy ward and place an object in it. Now he just had to wait for Snape to show up.

He'd been stunned that Voldemort trusted him with such an important task. Part of him realized that it was his first assignment as one of the Dark Lord's servants, since he didn't personally count any of the things that he did with the man in the manor.

Did this officially make him a Death Eater?

The sudden thought almost made him laugh out loud. He supposed he _was _a Death Eater. He hadn't technically been marked, but he hadn't removed the branded leather cuff since he first put it on all those weeks ago. He'd even cast water-proofing charms on it in the shower, he was so unwilling to remove the thing.

Still, it was strangely odd to put the label upon himself, even in his own silent musings. It was one of those moments he had from time to time – although they were becoming increasingly rarer – where he realized just how much his life had changed. How much _he'd_ changed.

He shrugged the thought off with a silent chuckle and refocused on the door. It was another five minutes before Snape arrived. He looked nervous, although he was clearly trying to hide it. It was quite strange for Harry to witness his professor in such a state.

He went directly to the barman and spoke in a hushed whisper. The old man began to work his way around the bar and led Snape up the stairs with Harry following behind. He opened the door and held it there for Snape to slip inside. Harry slid past as well, and the two were left alone in the small room. There was a table in the center with two chairs around it. On the center of the table was a small glass ball that had actually been placed there by Harry earlier that evening.

Snape, of course, was under the impression that he was still alone in the small room, and the impatient scowl on his face made it obvious that he didn't like the idea of being kept waiting. Harry smirked and silently moved to the corner of the room and aimed his wand.

_Imperio!_ Harry silently cast. He was filled with the rush of Dark magic and grinned gleefully as he felt the spell take hold. He knew that Snape would try to fight it, but he was confident that he could keep it place long enough to do one thing...

He willed Snape to walk to the table and pick up the ball... and it worked. Snape's movements were jerky and stilted, making it clear that the man was fighting the curse with all his might, but his fight wasn't enough to prevent him from reaching down and picking the small glass ball up from the table. A faint yellow light flashed around him the moment he touched it, and that was the moment that Harry released the _imperius_.

Snape blinked and wobbled on his feet for a second before fury and rage spread across his face and his wand was instantly drawn.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" He snarled angrily.

"Ah, ah, ah, _Severus_. I wouldn't go throwing around hexes yet. Don't you think it would be prudent to find out what that object you just touched is, first?" Harry said, still beneath his cloak.

Recognition dawned in Snape's eyes and the fury only grew.

"_POTTER!"_ he spat.

Harry pulled the cloak off with one hand, keeping his wand hand out and aimed directly at Snape. Voldemort insisted that he would be safe, once Snape had activated the glass orb, but he still wasn't about to risk anything.

"Why don't you take a seat, _sir,"_ Harry said. Snape made a move as if he were about to storm towards Harry with his wand drawn but came to a sudden halt. He began to sweat and his face contorted in mild pain. "_Now, _sir." Harry said, in a much harder and more commanding tone. Jerkily, Snape moved and sat down in the chair. He looked almost as stunned as he did livid.

"What the hell have you done to me?" Snape hissed in a deadly low voice. "What is that... _thing!"_ he asked, motioning at the glass ball that was once again resting on the table.

Harry strode over and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"I'm afraid that I don't actually know all of the details about the orb you just touched. It was crafted while I watched, but that doesn't actually mean I understand how the damn thing works. I'm not ashamed to admit that it's a magic that's a bit over my head. Same with that potion. The... what was it... ah, yes, the Coridoted Solution. It was really fascinating to watch it being brewed, though. Even if I didn't have the faintest clue what was going on half the time," Harry shrugged and leaned back in the chair, assuming a rather relaxed pose. He still kept tight hold of his wand though.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Snape hissed. Harry could feel the anger rolling off the man in his magic and was mildly impressed by its intensity.

"I was sent here to ask a few rather important questions, and relay a few bits of equally important information."

"_Sent?_" Snape snapped. "By whom, exactly?"

"The Dark Lord," Harry said with a smug grin.

Snape froze and his face went a bit pale. "What are you talking about?" he snapped in anger, but the force had distinctly reduced, to be replaced a bit by disbelief and confusion.

"He's back. The Dark Lord is fully resurrected, and has been for quite some time now. I'm sure you recall the day back in mid March when your mark hurt and then glowed? Surged with power and then quietly died down?"

Snape's lips parted slightly but he kept most of his emotions masked away; refusing to give away anything. Harry continued on.

"That was the night. He's been back ever since."

Snape's mouth floundered and it was obvious that he was searching for the right words ask, but not quite finding anything satisfactory.

"I was there. I helped," Harry continued, still grinning.

Snape's jaw snapped shut and his eyes flew up to meet Harry's. Disbelief and shock was written across his usually impassive face. "You lie."

"No. I was there. He needed my blood for the ritual. It was the reason I got entered in the Tri-Wizard tournament in the first place. Originally the plan was to kidnap me during the third task since it's apparently going to be taking place outside the wards of the school in some giant maze. They were going to rig a portkey or something. Anyway, through the course of the school year, I realized what was going on. Who it was that had entered my name into the cup, and what the Dark Lord's plans were for me. But in addition to all this, I also discovered some things about Dumbledore, learned some rather fascinating bits of magic, and came to the conclusion that I was on the wrong side and so I willingly went to the Dark Lord just after the second task. I volunteered my blood, and my participation, and the Dark Lord accepted."

"_You_ joined the Dark Lord?" Snape sneered in disbelief. "_James Potter's son,_ working with the Dark Lord?" He scoffed.

"Lily's son," Harry said, giving the potions master a pointed look. Snape flinched and glared back at Harry, angrily. "Besides," Harry continued, unphased, "do you honestly think that I could have brewed the potion used on your letter, or created _that,_" he motioned towards the small orb on the table that was still glowing faintly, "on my own? And what reason would I have to bring you here? Tell me, _Severus_, aside from yourself, who else do you know who could brew the Coridoted Solution?"

Snape's posture grew rigid and his face thoughtful for the briefest moment before he looked back into Harry's eyes and sneered. "The Dark Lord."

Harry smirked. "Precisely."

"So why the hell did you bring me here, and what is that _thing_?" Snape asked, nodding down to the orb.

"The orb has has several layers worth of magic on it. One is a powerful compulsion charm that makes you follow my basic commands as long as you're still in this room. That part was basically so I could make sure you sat down and actually listened to me, and to keep you from instantly throwing curses. The other half of it is some sort of advanced memory charm. When you leave this room, I will have two options. First one, I allow you to leave with your memories in tact. Alternately, if things don't go well, you will leave this room with no memory of anything ever taking place. You will think that you got stood up and wasted your time. You found the antidote sitting in the center of the table but no one else ever came. Which reminds me..." Harry paused and dug a small vial out of his pocket before tossing it across the table.

Snape snatched it out of the air and eyed it skeptically for a long moment. He removed the cork and gave it a hesitant sniff.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's the antidote. Even if things don't go well, we don't want you dead. At least, _not yet._ Just drink the damn thing."

Snape scowled at Harry and let a drop of the fluid drop onto his pinky before dabbing it on the tip of his tongue, experimentally. A moment later he seemed satisfied that it was what it was supposed to be and drank down the vial.

"Third," Harry began once Snape was clearly finished, "the orb prevents you from lying."

At this proclamation, Snape's lip curled into another angry sneer, and Harry just grinned.

"So, I suppose we ought to get this show started. First question, did you agree to spy against the Dark Lord for Dumbledore back in 1980, when you found out that I, and by association, my mum, were the target's of the prophecy?"

Snape's eyes widened and there was the briefest flicker of fear before it was replaced with anger.

"Answer the question," Harry said in a commanding voice and he watched as Snape struggled against the compulsion and the truth spell.

"Y-y-yesss." he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Alright, we already figured that, but it's good to confirm. Did Dumbledore make you do some sort of unbreakable vow in association with this arrangement?"

Snape's face betrayed a bit of his surprise, and he was still clearly fighting the magic, but not quite as hard.

"Y-yess."

"What was it?"

The fight was clearly back as the man struggled not to answer, but Harry could see the moment he lost the battle. "I... swore to... always do everything within my p-power, to p-prot-tect Lily's b-boy," Snape ground out.

Harry blinked. "You made an unbreakable vow to protect _me?_"

Snape's lips curled into a disgusted grimace.

"No vows about staying loyal to Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"No."

"Huh. Well that makes things a hell of a lot simpler. Now for the part where I get to fill you in on some fascinating details," Harry said leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, while folding his hands together under his chin.

Snape's brow furrowed slightly and he leaned back in his chair, just to maintain some more distance between he and Harry.

"Are you aware, that the prophecy you overheard being spoken by one Sybil Trelawney, to one Albus Dumbledore, fifteen years ago in _this room_, was in fact, a fake?"

"Fake?" Snape echoed incredulously.

"A fake."

"The Dark Lord himself viewed the memory. He was sure it was real," Snape said.

"Dumbledore had Trelawney under the _Imperius_. He forced her to act out the whole interview and the fake prophecy, just so that the spy that he knew Voldemort would have at this tavern, would overhear it and take it back to the Dark Lord. Dumbledore _used_ you. I mean, honestly – how often does Dumbledore actually hold his staff interviews at a freaking _pub?_"

Snape looked stunned.

"Trelawney was excessively loud about who she was coming to see, and who she was, when she first entered the pub, wasn't she? Caught your attention right away. Someone who descended form the great Seer Casandra Trelawney, coming to meet Albus Dumbledore? Sounds potentially interesting. Something that the Dark Lord would definitely want to hear about. So you slipped up the stairs and started to listen in.

"The whole thing was staged. Dumbledore had had the real job interview with Trelawney the day before in his office, where he almost _always_ holds job interviews. And it was during that interview that Trelawney made the _real_ prophecy. In the privacy of his office, where there was no one but Dumbledore and Trelawney to overhear it."

"And how exactly do _you_ know this?" Snape snarked skeptically.

Harry smirked. "I read it straight from her head. I used legilimency on her. Dumbledore was afraid to tamper too much with her memory for fear that it would screw up her already very-iffy Seer skills. And since she didn't remember the real vision anyway, he left it alone. All I had to do was know where to look and _presto; complete, real prophecy._

Snape scoffed. "_You_ used legilimency? I hardly believe that _you_ could ever hope to learn the mind arts," he hissed with his voice, dripping contempt.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Believe what you will. The Dark Lord has seen both the full, _real_ prophecy, as well as the full _fake_ prophecy. The fake was was created by Dumbledore, and intentionally leaked to Voldemort in hopes that he would come and kill me. Dumbledore _wanted_ Voldemort to kill me. He still does. It's why he keeps orchestrating, or allowing to continue, these situations that keep throwing me right at him. He keeps hoping that one of these years, the two of us will come together and complete the part of the _real_ prophecy that he wants fulfilled."

Snape's eyes were wide and his face was just barely betraying some of the shock and disbelief he was undoubtedly feeling. "And what is that?" he asked in a hush.

"_For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives..._"

Snape's brow furrowed and puckered as he thought over the line.

"The Dark Lord and I share a powerful magical connection. Our souls and blood are linked. The reason he didn't die fourteen years ago when his body was destroyed is because as long as I live, I anchor him to this world. He thinks it would be the same in reverse. As long as he still exists in the world, I cannot completely die either. We make each other immortal. In order to die, we _both_ have to die, and only by each other's hands."

Snape's face went pale and he looked utterly stunned. There was no masking it now. "How is that possible?"

"It's complicated," Harry said, shrugging nonchalantly and leaning back in his chair again. "What's important is that it's true, and the _real_ prophecy confirms it. Dumbledore fully understand the original implications of the full prophecy in the start though, and his actions actually caused everything to be set into motion, rather than bringing it to it's end. When I didn't actually die after the Dark Lord's attack, and I was marked," Harry reached up and tapped his scar, "Dumbledore must have realized what it really meant, because that event was actually mentioned in the prophecy, he just hadn't realized what it meant until it had actually happened. He also had to have realized at that point that, since I was still alive, that the Dark Lord wasn't really dead either. That he would come back. So he manipulated everything around me to guarantee that he could have control over where I was placed and how I was raised.

"He manipulated my entire life in an attempt to control the outcome of the prophecy. Every action was taken with the end goal of destroying Voldemort. I guess he decided that it didn't matter how many lives he completely fucked over, as long as he achieved _that goal._"

"For the greater good..." Snape mumbled quietly.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "That a Dumbledore quote?"

"He may have said it a time or two," Snape said, scowling at Harry.

"The fundamental thing here is that Dumbledore used and manipulated _all of us._ He controlled Trelawney. He used _you._ He tricked the Dark Lord. His actions painted a big huge target on my back, and my parents backs. In fact, you could say that Dumbledore was directly responsible for their deaths. The true prophecy may have ended up being fulfilled through some other set of events if he hadn't done anything, but it's also possible that it wouldn't have happened at all. None of this would have ever happened if Dumbledore had just ignored the first, true, prophecy.

"But he couldn't do that because he saw within it, an opportunity to destroy the Dark Lord. He saw the chance and he grabbed onto it; no matter who had to die, and who he had to use, in the process.

"And now it sounds like, not only did he use you to deliver the fake prophecy to the Dark Lord, but after you came to him, hoping to save my mum's life, he used you even more. Used you as a spy, and to try and protect his precious _weapon._ Because that's all I have ever been to him. I'm just a weapon. The tool that he hopes to use to destroy his greatest mistake. I'm an expendable weapon. It's my job to _die_ to kill the Dark Lord.

"But the thing is that the Prophecy told of two different possible outcomes. The main reason that Dumbledore went to so much trouble to try and manipulate my whole bloody life was so that he could try and force me down one specific path. Or rather, force me to think that _I chose_ that path.

"The true prophecy says '_He will have two paths from which to chose. From one path, the End will fall upon us all. From the other, we shall be saved. The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together, or destroy each other.'_

"That's what it says. Dumbledore, obviously, assumed that the path where the End befalls us, is the one that results if me and the Dark Lord join forces, but we have to disagree with that assessment. After all, it doesn't actually say which path is associated with which choice, and the wording used is rather curious. Personally, I'm going to place my bets on the option that lets me live forever, instead of the one where I forfeit my life to save a corrupt, ass-backwards society that I fundamentally disagree with."

Harry folded his arms across his chest and gave Snape a quiet minute for everything to sink in.

"So, _Severus," _Harry began with a smirk, and Snape scowled angrily at Harry's use of his first name, "this is your time to make a choice. Your one, _last_ chance. You have to chose your side – _now._ Where will your loyalties lie? With the Dark Lord? Or with the manipulative, deceitful old coot who lied to you, tricked you, and used you?

"If you cannot honestly answer me tonight, your memory gets wiped and you will _not _get summoned when the Dark Lord calls his Death Eaters to him. You will also not likely survive the year. After all, the Dark Lord does not tolerate betrayal."

The amalgam of expressions that passed across the potion master's face was almost amusing to Harry. The man usually limited his expressions to anger, fury, and perverse enjoyment at someone else's misfortune. Now his face was betraying a far wider range of emotions.

"Obviously, the orb will still prevent you from lying," Harry added airily as he began to examine his fingernails.

Snape's face twisted into another angry scowl as he glared daggers at Harry.

"I don't have all night here, and I still need to visit the Dark Lord to tell him the results of this little meeting, so do please make up your mind. Is it honestly _that_ hard of a choice? This way you get to keep your vow of trying to protect _me_, and you get to go back to the Dark where you belong. I mean, you cannot possibly have been _happy_ or _satisfied_ with your life working under bloody _Albus Dumbledore?"_ Harry finished incredulously.

Snape's face went almost blank, but Harry could tell that it was probably a thoughtful expression for the greasy potions master. Finally his expression was replaced with determination and he sat up straighter in the chair.

Harry smirked slightly and waited.

"My loyalties lie with the Dark. I will stay faithful to the Dark Lord," Snape said without even the slightest hesitation. Harry's eyes flickered to the orb and it glowed slightly, confirming the truth of the statement.

"Do you swear that you will not reveal anything about me or my switch in loyalties to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, sitting up straighter and looking eager.

Snape looked like he wanted to scowl, but kept his face determined. "I swear it. I will not tell Dumbledore any of what I have learned here tonight."

Harry grinned widely now.

"Fantastic. The Dark Lord wants you to prepare a report on Dumbledore's activities over the last few years. Anything you've noticed from your side of things relating to all the nonsense that happened to me each year. The thing with Quirrell and the stone, the whole chamber incident; all of that. Oh, and as related to the Chamber, he said he wanted to know if Dumbledore ever showed you the diary I destroyed that day, or ever said anything about it to you. Additionally, he said he wanted to know anything that might still be going on with the Order. He wanted to know if any section of it is still active at all, or if there is some system in place for recalling the old members together, and how long you suspect it would take for Dumbles to get it going again once he realizes he needs to.

"The Dark Lord said to prepare as much information as you could manage on these things and to bring it to him when he summons you, which will probably be sometime late next week. This summons will be just you, and he doesn't want Dumbledore to be at all aware of it. Just sneak out of the castle's wards and the mark will take you through the wards into his headquarters. He's going to be doing a mass summons here real soon, and at that point, I think he's going to have you go to Dumbledore before hand and play up the whole 'resuming your role as spy' bit. Dumbledore will 'send you back' to the Dark Lord to act as his spy. That sort of thing."

Snape's facial expression slowly hardened as Harry rolled on. He didn't know what to feel at this point. He was still reeling from the concept that the Dark Lord had returned. He still hadn't fully wrapped his mind around the idea that _Harry Potter_ had not only helped in the Dark Lord's resurrection but had actually joined him! And now Snape was going to be resuming his work as a double-agent. It was all just so stressful and overwhelming that he almost wished it were a dream.

But then there was that tiny voice, deep in the back of his soul, that wanted to rejoice. The Dark Lord had returned! The Dark would once again try to gain control over the magical world from the Light and restore order and balance to their world. The Dark cause would once again be fought!

He was wary that the muggle killings would start up again, but the Dark Lord had been slowly putting less and less emphasis on muggles the last few years of the war. He only hoped that trend would resume. He held absolutely no love for the filthy muggles, but he also knew there were more pressing matters to be dealt with without being distracted by slaughtering weak, ignorant muggles.

Finally Potter's instructions came to an end and he stood from the table. He draped his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and summoned the glass orb to him. He flicked his fingers over it and then reached out, offering it to Snape.

Snape rose a single questioning eyebrow and Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Touch it again and it'll deactivate the enchantments," he instructed impatiently.

Reluctantly, Snape reached out and pressed his index finger to the glass ball. It glowed again and then died away. Snape felt the magic dissipate around him and sighed as the heavy weight of the compulsion magic left him.

He was of half a mind to curse Potter into oblivion for what he had done, but he wasn't stupid enough to actually do it.

Harry pulled the cloak over his head, completely disappearing from view and told Snape that he was going to follow him out of the pub. Snape was told that if the barkeep asked any questions, that he should just say that he was stood up and the other person never came.

They left the room, and the barman _did_ ask, and Snape answered appropriately. The pair left the inn and began to make their way up the path towards the castle. Just before they entered the wards Harry stopped.

"Well this is where I stop for now," he said as he pulled the cloak off. Snape looked back at him with confusion and watched in stunned silence as Harry pulled back the sleeve on his left arm. But there was no mark on his flesh. He would have been stunned to find one there. If it was their goal to keep Potter's allegiances secret, having him baring the Dark Mark would be foolish.

Instead, Harry was wearing a leather cuff that appeared to have nothing on it at all. Harry whispered '_Morsmordre' _and suddenly the Dark Mark appeared on it, as if burned into it. Harry smirked at Snape's surprised expression before nodding his head, saying 'See-ya around,' and then hissing at the cuff, and disappearing with a soft _pop, _and left Snape to stand there, in shock.

This was most definitely the most shocking night he had in more than a decade.

He needed a drink.

Snape quickly began to march the remainder of the way up the path towards the castle with the intention of heading straight to his quarters and pulling out his personal stash of firewiskey. He was pretty sure he had a few hangover potions in his cabinet. He would definitely need one in the morning.

– –


	24. Chapter 24

AN: For those paying attention, I mentioned in the author note at the start of chapter 1 that the real relationship would start on chapter 24. Well, this is chapter 24. ;)

So!

WARNING: This chapter contains a **slashy lemon**. That means a **male x male sexual encounter**. If you don't like that sort of thing... why are you reading this story again? Well, you can skim past that part when you reach it.

– –

They were called 'katas', Harry had learned, but it looked like some sort of elaborate choreographed dance. He supposed it _was._ It was a muggle martial arts thing, or so he had been told. A repetitive set of motions that one practiced over and over again to work out the kinks in their technique. Harry had been _stunned_ to learn that Voldemort had studied under a muggle martial arts master for about a year when he was in his mid twenties.

Apparently the then-future-Dark Lord, had been traveling to the far east in search of a specific magical artifact and had witnessed some martial artists during his search. He had been impressed enough to extend his stay in Japan even when he had determined that the artifact in question wasn't there, and the country was still in a rather pitiful condition because of the war that had only ended four years prior.

Voldemort was, by no means, a master of martial arts, however he prided the skill as it improved his reflexes, balance, and footwork. But hand-to-hand combat was an absolute last resort, and one he highly doubted he would ever have to resort to. Even in the unlikely scenario of being separated from his wand, he was capable of enough wandless magic, as well as his incredible repertoire of parselmagic that also required no wand, that he would likely never be in a situation where he could not fall back on some sort of magical technique.

Still, Harry could tell that the little bit of muggle martial arts that the Dark Lord had learned, was impressive. His movements were mesmerizing. The fact that he was barefoot and in a pair of loose pants, tied at the ankles, and no shirt, wasn't exactly helping matters. Harry couldn't fathom why the hell seeing the other man's bare feet was so mesmerizing, but for some reason it was. Can a person have handsome feet? Harry had never given it any thought before, but he decided that if anyone did, Voldemort did. His eyes weren't stuck on the feet for long though. The man's chest was far more mesmerizing. Harry was so utterly distracted by the scene he was witnessing, that he had utterly abandoned his own exercises that morning.

"Gods, you're beautiful..." The words slipped out of Harry's mouth before he even realized his mouth was open. He'd _thought_ them so many times during the last two weeks; why his brain decided to misfire and speak the words aloud _this time_, he had no idea, but now that they were out, he couldn't take them back.

He felt his face and the back of his neck instantly grow hot with embarrassment, while the bottom of his stomach dropped out in horror as he feared how his words might get taken.

Voldemort stopped in his choreographed movements, turned, and quirked an amused eyebrow back at the younger wizard.

"I-I'm sorry," Harry said quickly, ducking his head.

Voldemort chuckled. "You compliment me and then apologize? Harry, don't be ridiculous."

"I just... I mean... I'm sorry if it... weirds you out or something."

"What on earth are you going on about, Harry? Why in Merlin's name would it '_weird me out_' to receive a compliment from you?_"_

"Er, I mean, with me being _bent_ and all," Harry mumbled, looking down and fiddling with the drawstring of his jogging pants.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry for a moment before speaking. "Bent... that's a euphemism they're using these days for being gay, correct?"

Harry blinked. He forgot sometimes that it had been more than a decade since Voldemort had been able to be around other humans, and who knew how distanced he was from that sort of 'slang' even before his first body was destroyed. Still, was 'bent' a recent slang term? Or maybe it just wasn't used much by wizards? He really didn't know.

"Er, yeah, it is."

"Well, I suppose it's better than the things that were tossed around when I was school age," Voldemort mused quietly. "The idiots I attended Hogwarts with preferred to just call me a _faggot_. But of course, none of them survived much past graduation. In fact, dear Myrtle didn't even make it that far," he mused with a wicked grin.

Harry's jaw dropped and he stared in dumbfounded shock at the Dark Lord opposite him. Had he just...?

"You're gay?" the words fell out of Harry's mouth before he could engage the filter between his brain and his mouth, but once the words were out, he could do nothing but curse himself for his idiocy. What the hell was wrong with his brain-to-mouth filter today?

Voldemort gave him a long piercing look through narrowed eyes before the corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smirk.

"Yes, Harry. I am _gay_. Obviously, this is not something that is common knowledge, but I did get publicly 'outed' in my fifth year when I was sloppy enough to get caught snogging someone in a broom cupboard, by an extraordinarily nosy Gryffindor. At first he thought he could blackmail me with the information – I'm sure you can imagine that if being 'outed' in the present day was unpleasant for you, being outed fifty years ago was considerably worse. I refused to give into his demands, but at the time I was not in a position to forcefully silence him either. He quickly spread word around the school."

"Wow. I bet his death was painful," Harry deadpanned.

Voldemort's smirk grew wide and wicked. "Oh, it _was_."

Harry chuckled lightly but quickly found himself imagining the 16-year old Tom Riddle snogging some boy in a dark secluded broom cupboard and instantly found himself growing aroused by the thought. His arousal only shot through the roof as the anonymous, faceless 'other boy' suddenly turned into _himself_. The sixteen-year old Tom Riddle in his mind slowly morphed into his older visage that Harry had grown so close to in the last two months and Harry almost groaned aloud as his whole body suddenly ached with desire. He quickly tried to stomp the image out of his head. He'd already embarrassed himself beyond reason; the last thing he needed was to be sporting an erection in the Dark Lord's training gym.

Harry glanced up to see Voldemort grinning wickedly down at him with that lopsided smirk, that he sometimes felt the Dark Lord reserved _just for him. _ That smirk that had been sending flutters through his gut for weeks now. Seeing it now, combined with the rest of the Dark Lord's amazing presence, totally did him in. He felt himself getting lost in the other man's glittering blood-red eyes. Falling into them.

Beautiful didn't even begin to describe the Dark Lord. He was a fucking _god._ His presence, combined with his power, combined with his confidence, combined with his amazing body...

_Gods, Harry wanted to touch him! _Not just feel the other man's hand in his hair, but to actually _touch_ him. Feel the older wizard's skin beneath the pads of his fingertips... The other man's exposed chest, glistening with a very light sprinkling of sweat, the faintest dusting of hair at the top center, and that teasing line from the base of his naval down to, and disappearing into, his black pants, was taunting Harry and he felt his lids growing heavy with desire as the coil twisted in the pit of his stomach.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he turned his head away and ran his hand through his hair roughly.

So what if the other man was gay? It wasn't like that made any difference at all in the end. Voldemort was the most powerful dark wizard in the world. At best, Harry figured the other man might see him as a protégé or an apprentice of some sort. He doubted that Voldemort considered him to be anything more than the scrawny kid who happened to be holding a piece of his soul, and who he was now training to be a better wizard. Harry obviously needed to be able to properly guard the precious piece of Voldemort's soul, and to do that, he needed to be able to defend himself. It only made sense for Voldemort to be training Harry. He had reasoned that this was the most logical reason that the Dark Lord would be willing to spend so much time with him and dedicate so much of his efforts to him. Even beyond all of that, Harry was more than aware of the significant age gap between the two, and doubted that the other man could ever see past it...

He huffed in frustration as he pulled roughly at his own hair and found his eyes drawn back to the Dark Lord's gaze. What on earth had he been thinking, letting his imagination run away with himself like that, anyway? It's not like he could _pursue_ anything with _the Dark Lord_. What would he do if Voldemort was offended by his interest? What if he told Harry to leave? Refused to allow him stay for the summer? Refused to continue their lessons? Harry didn't think he could face that. His time with the man had become too precious. The idea of not being able to stand by his side, every day, made Harry _ache._ The man had become so important to him, so quickly. It was more than just familiarity, friendship, or the admiration of a mentor. The draw he felt to the Dark Lord felt _magical._ Literally. It felt like there was some powerful tug deep inside him, calling him to Voldemort. But just being in the other man's company didn't feel like it was enough anymore. Just like the company of his companion had seemed pale in comparison, after having spent some time in the company of the actual Dark Lord. Once he was exposed to one, the previous incarnation wasn't enough anymore. And now that he had become accustomed to being able to spend time with Voldemort, he knew he could never give it up. But deep inside him, a piece of him desperately wanted something _more. _Not just time in the other's company; but_ intimacy._

Harry blinked slowly growing aware of an added pressure in his mind. A gentle, featherlight caress that he realized had been steadily growing over the passing silent seconds.

"That's quite an imagination, you've got there, Harry," Voldemort's voice came out in soft whisper and Harry suddenly startled as he realized that the man had come to stand directly in front of him and his face was only inches from Harry's. "So many thoughts buzzing around in there."

_Oh Merlin... he'd seen. He knew... How much? How long was he inside my head? Did he see the fantasy?_

Harry's mouth fell open to say something, but he realized he had no idea what to say or do. Any words he might have found escaped him utterly when one of Voldemort's long-fingered hands came up and brushed gently along Harry's cheek. A tiny gasp escaped his lips and he felt his eyes falling closed as the gentle caress of the Dark Lord's magic seeped into him from the tiny bit of contact.

"You feel it too, don't you, dear boy?" Voldemort's whispery voice said a moment later. "I think it's caused by the soul and the blood bonds interacting. I'm not really sure, to be perfectly honest. Such magics are always unpredictable."

Harry's eyes opened and he looked up at the other man with confusion. "What...?"

"The pull that exists between us. I'd swear it's growing in strength. Perhaps I've indulged in it too much, but I just can't help it. I've never been much one for denying myself something when I want it."

Realization began to dawn in Harry's eyes and a tiny, but powerful, hope sparked to life inside him.

"Do you want me? The way that I want you?" Harry asked suddenly with a voice that was much more confident and assured than he probably felt. Part of him couldn't believe he was being so blunt, but if his Gryffindor courage wasn't good for much, it was at least worth something here.

Voldemort gave him a long look, but Harry couldn't quite distinguish what the older wizard's blank face meant. Finally Voldemort's hand dropped to his side, abandoning Harry's cheek and leaving him with the sudden feeling of loss.

"It doesn't matter, Harry. You're fourteen years old. You're practically still a child."

"I'm almost fifteen!" Harry suddenly said in a rather desperate tone.

Voldemort _snorted_ and rolled his eyes. "You _do_ realize how juvenile that response was, don't you?"

"Well, who gives a damn how old I am? I don't care how old _you_ are!"

"Do you even realize how old I am?" Voldemort asked with a humorless face and a single raised brow.

"I said I don't care!"

"I'm sixty-nine, Harry. Sixty-nine years old."

"Fine, but you don't look it! You don't look a day over thirty. I don't look fourteen either! Since I finished taking the accellerant potion, I could easily pass for seventeen! Neither one of us has normal bodies. Besides, what the hell does age matter to an immortal Dark Lord? And if you're theory is right, then I'm immortal too! So I don't see any reason why age should factor into this!"

Voldemort sighed and pinched the bride of his nose for a moment before letting his hand fall to his side. "You don't understand, Harry. It is more than just your physical age. Age has a lot to do with mentality too. You simply haven't lived enough days to –"

"But you're always telling me that I act far more mature than a fourteen year old! You're always saying that you forget how old I am because I don't act like it!"

Voldemort growled. "It doesn't matter, Harry!"

"Fine, whatever! But you never answered my first question. Do you want me? Do you want more than just... just... whatever this is that we've been doing? Because I know I do!"

"There is _magic_ at work here, Harry!" Voldemort yelled suddenly. "_I_ don't even understand the nature of what's going on!"

"Yeah, well I don't bloody care!"

"I will not let some ancient magic control my actions and choices!" Voldemort bellowed.

"So it's nothing more than the magic to you? This thing between us – there's nothing more to it? Nothing pulling you to me aside from the soul bond and the blood bond? _Nothing?" _Harry asked.

Voldemort sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose again.

"Because I know there's more for me," Harry continued in a desperate voice. "I feel the magical connection to you, but I'm also drawn to your mind; your intelligence and _genius!_ To your personality; how you just take control of things. You exude power and confidence and I love it. I love being around you when you just take charge. I love our talks and the time we spend together just doing _nothing._ Just being in your company makes me feel so much calmer and I can think better, and I _know_ that it's more than just some magical connection! I just _know it! _I look forward to coming here every day. I look forward to telling you about what's been going on in my life at Hogwarts and every day I look forward to hearing what you've read in the papers and what new spell or ward your working on. Are you saying that you don't feel anything extra about the time we spend together? Nothing extra about _me?_ Are you saying that it's just the magic and nothing more? Because if that's it, say so and I'll never bring it up again. But if it's not... if it's not –"

And suddenly his words were cut off as Voldemort's lips were pressed against his own in a fiery display of completely unexpected passion. Harry was stunned for a moment but quickly began to melt into the other man's embrace. One hand was instantly buried into his hair, but it wasn't just threaded gently into his raven locks, it was fisted in them and pulling, _hard_. The rough tug shocked Harry, mostly by how much he liked it. How much part of him wanted the other man to pull _harder_.

Voldemort's other hand wrapped around his waist and pulled Harry flush against the older wizard. Harry moaned out against Voldemort's lips as he felt the entirety of the other man's torso pressed against his own, and his arms came up and wrapped around Voldemort's neck on autopilot.

The kiss continued and deepened. Harry almost gasped when he felt the older man's tongue slip out and brush against his lips, demanding access. Harry's mind was a whirl with confusion, lust, need, desire for _more_, but also the fear that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. This was his first ever kiss, and he wanted to do it right. He didn't want to disappoint Voldemort. He parted his lips and felt the man's tongue come in and probe about. It was strange and yet indescribably erotic. He felt his whole body reacting to their interactions, and he could feel Voldemort's body reacting too.

Instinctively, his hips gyrated and he ground himself against the other man experimentally. Voldemort _growled_ into his mouth and deepened the kiss while tightening his grip on Harry's hair. Harry cried out in pleasure and shock and thrust himself against the other man again.

It was just _so good_. He could feel their magic swirling around and through them like a hurricane. Things in the room were shaking and falling about from the torrents of accidental magic flying off them.

Voldemort broke away from Harry's lips and the younger wizard almost whimpered in disappointment. He didn't want it to end yet. He wanted more. _More._ The whimper was, however, cut off when Voldemort instead latched onto Harry's neck and began to trail his lips and teeth along his long pale column and then began to bite and nibble along his jaw.

"Oh gods," Harry moaned and gasped as Voldemort gave another rough tug of his hair, pulling his head back and exposing more of his neck.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Voldemort's voice came out in a husky pant. "Sure that you want this?"

"I want it! I want it! Oh, please... _please!"_

"I won't let you change your mind, Harry. If you really agree to this, you're _mine._ No one else can have you. No one else can touch you."

"Yours. Only yours!" Harry panted and eagerly nodded his head as much as he could with the older wizard's hand still fisted in his hair.

Voldemort tugged Harry's hair, exposing the other side of his neck and trailed his tongue up it until he came to Harry's ear and pulled it between his teeth. By this point, Harry was quite literally writhing against the other man and panting heavily. He'd never felt anything so amazing in all his life. He could feel their magic twining together in some strange new way he'd never experienced before and it only seemed to heighten the feeling from the onslaught of physical stimuli. He could feel the most powerful coiling pressure he'd ever experienced building up in his gut, and had absolutely no hope of stopping his body from thrusting against the other man. Not that he needed to, since Voldemort actually began to grind right back against him in the most delicious and erotic dance of Harry's life. It was incredible and indescribable and he couldn't believe it was all happening so fast.

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," Harry chanted with his quick shallow pants as the two bodies writhed against each other in rhythm.

"My name," Voldemort panted into Harry's ear.

"What?"

"Say my name, Harry."

"Wh... T-Tom?" Harry asked, in surprise.

"Yessss," Voldemort hissed.

"Tom...Tom. _Yes_..." Harry said, experimentally testing out the name on his panted breaths.

There was another insistent tug in his hair and the pain only seemed to exaggerate the extreme pleasure he was experiencing everywhere else. It felt commanding and controlling and for some reason he found it turned him on all that much more. At some point during all of this, Harry's hand had begun a desperate exploration of the other man's exposed chest, and it was like the palms of his hands and the pads of his fingers were on fire with that melded magical energy. Every touch set him alight and he couldn't get enough.

"Only you, Harry," _Tom_ said, gripping a tight hold on Harry's rear and pressing them together harder in rhythm. "Only you can ever say it."

Harry moaned out as he was filled with a rush of some foreign emotion he couldn't quite place.

"Oh Tom... ahh... oh.. oh, I – I... I'm going to... oh fuck..."

"Yessss, Harry. Cum for me, Harry. Only for me," Tom growled out and Harry felt the other man's magic tighten around him as if latching onto him and pulling on something deep inside it. It was insane and intense and everything happened at once.

"Yes, Tom! Only... oh gods... only you. Only ever you. _Oh Tom!_"

Harry called out as his world exploded and he began to convulse erratically against the other man. It was so much more intense than anything he had ever self-induced. The best wank in the world couldn't hold a candle to what was happening in that moment. He'd never even imagined he could feel this good. His clouded, lust-filled mind only just barely recognized the fact that the other man was jerking and convulsing and moaning right back in the same way, and the thought that he had done that to the Dark Lord filled him with a surge of pride and even more powerful euphoria.

Tom grunted as he reached his own completion and his grip tightened in Harry's hair to the point of almost pulling a good chunk out, but a second later the hold loosened and slipped into a gentle threading through Harry's black locks.

The two sighed and panted against each other as they came down from their entirely unexpected activities. Harry buried his head in _Tom_'s neck and smiled.

_Tom._

It felt like it was some incredibly special honor and it was only _his._ Only Harry could call Voldemort by his real name. It would be weird to start thinking of the man as Tom after thinking of him as Voldemort for so long, but he somehow didn't think he'd have much trouble making the shift. He _looked_ like a Tom. This man who Harry had become so utterly attached to. Who Harry had grown to cherish and adore beyond reason. This man didn't feel like _Voldemort_ to him. He felt like _Tom._ It felt right to call him that. But most of all, it felt glorious that the man had granted him permission to do so.

It truly seemed that this gesture had to have some deeper meaning to it. It had to have some greater significance that the Dark Lord was willing to allow Harry to use his given name. Harry didn't know what that meaning was, but he was sure it was important.

"Are you still sure this is what you want?" Voldemort... no _Tom's_ voice came out quietly in an extremely rare display of insecurity. Harry felt his grip on the other man tighten protectively.

"I'm sure," Harry said in a muffled voice into the older wizard's shoulder with strong conviction. "I won't change my mind. And I... I hope you won't either," he finished with a far more weaker, and equally insecure voice.

Tom was silent for a moment while his hand threaded gently through Harry's hair and gently massaged the scalp that he had so recently abused.

"No, Harry, I won't change my mind. You're mine now."

Harry grinned widely and gave Tom another squeeze, relishing in the fact that he was _holding_ the other man. That he was completely wrapped up in his arms and that it felt even more amazing than he had imagined. "Yours."

Tom seemed to be enjoying the embrace as well, but finally he pulled away and sighed quietly. His face was strangely soft and his eyes were filled with some deeper emotion that Harry couldn't quite place, but it was suddenly replaced with his normal mask.

"Come, Harry. We're both a mess and I highly doubt that either of us will be getting anymore work done in here this morning."

He turned and walked over to the hooks on the wall near the door where he had a loose outer robe hanging. He slipped it on and Harry sighed longingly at the loss of the older wizard's beautifully exposed torso.

Tom looked over his shoulder and smirked leeringly at Harry, causing him to grin and duck his head in mild embarrassment. Tom led him up the stairs to the second floor and to the door of the bathroom he usually used there. He instructed Harry to get 'cleaned up', while motioning to the shower, and to then join him in the study when he was done. The next moment Tom had closed the door and was gone.

Harry stood there in the marble and porcelain bathroom feeling as if he were still in a state of mild shock. What had just happened was slowly seeping in and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

His hand came up and he lightly brushed his fingertips over his still-swollen lips and actually giggled lightly. He rolled his eyes at his idiotic reactions and quickly stripped down and stepped into the shower.

It wasn't until _after_ he got out that he realized he didn't have a change of clothes. Nor, in fact, did he have the soiled clothes he had come in with. They had vanished from the floor where he had left them. Best he could figure was that Mixey had popped in and grabbed them.

_Over-eager house elves,_ Harry grumbled to himself as he wrapped one of the fluffy deep navy towels around his waist, and slung another over his shoulders. He didn't even have his wands since they were both in his bag back in the study. Otherwise he would have transfigured one of the towels into a bathrobe.

He stepped cautiously out of the bathroom and looked both ways down the long hallway. He felt exceedingly exposed wandering through the manor in nothing but a pair of towels and could only imagine how utterly embarrassed he would be to walk into the study in such a state. Part of him hoped that he would beat Tom back to the study and be able to change into his school robes before the other got there, but a bigger part of him doubted he'd be that lucky.

He hurried down the hall and slowly pushed the door to the study open and peered inside. Tom was there, just as he'd known he would be. Harry grumbled against his always-shitty luck and slipped inside.

Tom turned his head and his brows slowly climbed into his damp black hairline at the sight of Harry wrapped in nothing but a pair of fluffy blue towels. The corner of his mouth curled up into an amused smirk.

"Mixey made off with my clothes," Harry muttered. His face grew hot and pink as he saw Tom's eyes trailing over his exposed body hungrily. Finally Tom chuckled and turned his attention back to the newspaper in his hand.

Harry hurried over and picked up his bag, pulling out his cypress wand and his change of clothes. He hesitated, looking unsure for a brief moment before he began to head back out towards the door.

"You can change in here, Harry. It's not like I haven't already seen it," Tom said, and Harry could hear the amusement in his voice. Harry's face went red and he froze, debating his options.

"Yeah, but we weren't exactly... _together_ or anything back then," Harry mumbled, and Tom only snickered more.

"Do you honestly think I didn't take a good look while I had the chance?" Tom asked humorously and Harry felt his blush increase dramatically, while he also felt a surge of delight at the thought that Tom had been checking him out, even that early on. It had been quite a while since the ritual in the big bathtub to remove Harry's trace, after all.

Finally he huffed, annoyed by the intensity of his embarrassment and just dropped the towels. He was facing the wall, with his backside exposed to the Dark Lord. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, but tried not to fumble too much to show his nervousness as he quickly pulled on his trousers and a light undershirt. He would wait to pull on his outer school robes until he left.

He ran his hand through his hair in a rough, nervous gesture and heard Tom chuckling from behind him. He turned around and scowled at the other man, but he couldn't hold onto any malice and quickly found himself grinning again. He was just too _happy._ He often joked about what piss-poor luck he had, but at the moment, he honestly felt like the luckiest man alive. Of course, he knew that few would agree with that sentiment, but that was just because they didn't really know Tom. No one else knew him the way Harry did. Or at least, that's the way he felt. He knew he still had so much to learn about the other man, but he realized that there was nothing he wanted more than to spend every waking hour finding out. He wanted to know this man's every nuance. His every experience, and his every desire. And he wanted to fulfill those desires. He wanted to be the one to make Tom smile. He wanted to be the one – _the only one –_ to make Tom make that wonderful keening noise from the back of his throat as they writhed against each other.

He looked over at the older wizard, perched regally in his leather and wood office chair, with that devilish smirk on his lips, and had the most ridiculous urge to go sit in the other man's lap but Tom stood up, saving Harry from his own impulses.

"Come here, Harry," Tom said, motioning with his hand. Harry took only two long strides to get to the older wizard and came to an awkward stop a foot from him, wanting desperately to get closer, but unsure if it was okay. He felt so confused and unsure. He was excited and elated by the direction things were heading in, but he was also terrified that he'd do something stupid to screw it up. He knew he needed to try and work on his confidence or he'd just start to annoy Tom, but he was still too overwhelmed and confused to get himself sorted out yet.

Tom saved him the confusion by closing the distance between the two and lacing the fingers of one hand behind Harry's neck and into the messy hair there.

"Was that your first kiss, Harry?" Tom asked with a deep, smooth voice. Harry hadn't expected that question and floundered for a moment.

He ducked his head and shrugged before he shook himself, trying to force his way past the nerves. "Yea. It was. And my first... all the rest of it, too." Harry ducked his head and grinned, widely.

Tom made a pleased humming sound in his throat and Harry looked up to see the older wizard looking down at him with those hungry eyes and a wide, thin-lipped, smile.

"Good," he said before pulling Harry's head up and pressing his lips to his again. The movement was fast and unexpected, but Harry reacted much quicker this time, returning the kiss and wrapping his arms around Tom's waist and fisting his hands in the fine material of the man's shirt.

Tom pulled back and Harry was left panting and looking up at the older wizard with heavy lids and lusty eyes. Tom ground against his already straining erection and Harry groaned out.

Tom chuckled. "Ah... the joys of having a young lover. You recover so quickly. I imagine I'm going to enjoy showing you all the different ways in which two men can enjoy each other's company," he whispered in a husky voice before leaning in and pecking Harry on the lips again. Harry moaned out as a powerful jolt of lust shot through him at the implications of the other man's words.

"But now is not the time," Tom said, pulling away and earning another whimper from Harry. Tom grinned and ran his hand over Harry's cheek, looking down at him with eyes filled with that uncharacteristic, unidentified, emotion that seemed so foreign on the older man's face. "It is about time that you returned to the school. You need your breakfast. Come back after lunch. I suspect I'll complete the transformation tomorrow – assuming we don't get distracted," he gave Harry a pointed glare and Harry grinned sheepishly.

Harry almost literally dragged his feet as he made his way to the first floor corridor outside the time-turner room. Tom had escorted him down there and as the two came to a stop in front of the door, Harry was relieved when Tom once again initiated the one thing that Harry wanted more than anything else – another kiss, and another lingering embrace.

Feeling Tom's body against his own was an experience Harry couldn't explain. The strange magic was clearly playing some role in it because Harry could feel swells of magic coursing around and through them the closer they got. But he also knew it was more than just the magic. Every part of him ached for Tom. He wanted to hold on and never let go. The idea of returning to Hogwarts was practically depressing. He just wanted to stay at the manor and never leave Tom's side.

But what use to the man would he be if he did that? Tom didn't just want a house-boy. If Harry kept up his golden-boy persona at the school, he would leave himself in the prefect position to help the Dark Lord's cause when it came time to take the school, or get rid of Dumbledore.

He sighed into Tom's shoulder before taking in a deep, long breath of the other man's scent. It was delicious, and so intense this close up. Spices and musk and traces of whatever shampoo or body wash he had used in his shower.

Finally Harry pulled away, but not before Tom had given him another peck on the lips and smirked at him. Harry slipped into the time-turner room, and moments later he was two hours earlier, at 7:25am. His earlier self would have arrived at the manor a few minutes earlier and was currently in the 2nd floor bathroom changing for his morning workout in the gym.

Harry almost laughed aloud at the thought of what his earlier self was in for in the coming hours. Harry could still hardly believe it all himself.

He went out into the entry hall, activated the port-key and returned to Hogwarts with a secret smile on his lips.

It was Wednesday, so he had a free period in first block, and Charms in second. Ron never bothered to get up for breakfast on Wednesdays – opting instead to take advantage of the free morning period to sleep in.

Hermione also had the period free, then Charms, and then ancient runes later that afternoon after lunch – but she, unlike Ron, got up on time and still attended breakfast, so Harry knew he'd still be seeing her that morning.

He came through the portrait hole into Gryffindor Tower and made his way over to one of the couches in a dreamy haze before collapsing down into the overstuffed seat with a big dopey grin on his face.

"Where have _you_ been?" a voice sounded and Harry sat up and blinked in surprise. Hermione and Ginny were both sitting on the couch opposite him with books and parchment all around then. He hadn't even realized they were there.

"Uh..." Harry floundered. His head was still to busy buzzing with thoughts of gentle caresses, rough grips, tugging hair, and the sensation of having Tom's teeth tongue trail along his jaw.

Ginny suddenly gasped and Harry turned his blank face to her.

"Is that a hickey!" she hissed with curiosity and mirth in her eyes.

Harry could _feel_ his face go red and his hand instantly shot up to his neck. But he suddenly realized he had no idea which side of his neck a hickey might be on, since Tom had assaulted both sides.

_Oh shit, what if there's more than – _

"Several hickeys!" Ginny continued. "And are those teeth marks?"

"Oh bollocks!" Harry moaned as he quickly stood up, intent on racing out of the common room. It was still pretty unoccupied and his quick look around told him that no one else down there seemed to have overheard their conversation.

"Oh, Harry, sit down! Stop panicking. Hang on just a second," Ginny said, still grinning while she rolled her eyes at him. "One of my roommates knows some really good glamors for covering those sorts of things up. I'll just run up and ask her." And with that Ginny was up, out of her seat, and racing up the stairs.

Harry stared after her, gaping and confused as he slowly sunk back down into his previous seat. His eyes glanced up hesitantly to Hermione, who looked both shocked, and... amused. Harry rolled his eyes.

Hermione began to dig around in her bookbag and after what seemed like deep exploration, she came out with a small compact mirror. Harry was mildly surprised that Hermione even owned such a thing and apparently his expression showed this.

"I started carrying it around since the dance," she said defensively, and not meeting his eyes.

Harry grinned. "How are things going with you and Viktor? You two still meeting up in the library?"

Hermione blushed and ducked her head before looking back up and scowling playfully at him. She thrust the compact at him and as he took it, she whipped out her wand, tapped it, and cast a quick _engorgio_ charm on it. It enlarged to the size of a dinner plate and Harry quickly began to examine his appearance as discreetly as he could manage in the public setting. He was just grateful that few Gryffindors were morning people.

His neck was littered with dark red and purplish marks, and a number of red teeth marks. His jaw also featured a number of red marks. At the sight he wasn't sure which emotion would win out – the urge to be deeply embarrassed, or the sudden rush of arousal that the reminder of the events that created the marks, caused.

He realized suddenly he was grinning and ducked his head, sheepishly before closing the enlarged compact, and canceling the enlargement charm.

He cleared his throat and handed the compact back. "Er... thanks."

Hermione rose a single questioning eyebrow and sent him a look that clearly said 'you _will_ be explaining this.'

Ginny reappeared on the stairs to the girls dorms just then and quickly made her way over to them. A couple minutes and several fairly simple healing and glamor charms later, and Harry looked normal again.

As he examined his appearance in the mirror again, he was almost sad that he'd had to remove the evidence of his and Tom's activities. Having physical proof just made it that much more real.

"Thanks you two, for helping. I really appreciate it," Harry said as he hunched over in his seat on the edge of the couch.

"_Well?"_ Hermione's voice came out impatiently.

Harry looked up and gave them his most innocent and bewildered look. "Well, what?"

Ginny guffawed and Hermione growled.

"No way, Harry Potter!" Hermione began. "You're not getting out of this without an explanation! What happened? How... _who_ was responsible for – for – _that?"_

Harry's eyes darted between the two girls with a mild sense of panic in his gut. He knew he couldn't dodge this bullet, but he needed to give them something convincing, while not revealing any indication of anything even remotely close to the truth. A story popped into his head, and he could only hope it would be sufficient.

He twisted around, checking the other occupants of the common room before standing up and moving over to sit on the same couch as the two girls. He pulled out his phoenix feather wand and cast a quick privacy spell around them.

"I _may_ be seeing someone," He said in a low voice, still looking around as if he were extremely paranoid of being overheard.

"Really!" Ginny almost squealed. "Who?"

"I can't tell you. He's... he's not _out_. To _anyone_. That includes his family, alright?"

"We would _never_ tell anyone, Harry!" Hermione insisted suddenly, and she looked visibly hurt at the insinuation that he couldn't trust them.

"It's not that I don't trust you two, I just can't risk this. It's not my secret to tell. Besides, I trusted both you and Fleur with my secret and I know that neither of you told anyone, but it _still_ got out. I still have _no idea_ how Skeeter found out, but that doesn't change the fact that she did."

"But Skeeter's been missing for months. It's been all over the Prophet. No one has any idea what's happened to her," Ginny said.

"True, but I'm not willing to risk that whatever method she used to spy on us isn't still available to someone else. Like I said, it's not my secret to tell. If his family opened up the Daily Prophet one morning and found out that their son was being outed to the whole bloody world and that he was being accused of dating the _Boy-Who-Lived... _it would... it would be bad. I just can't do that to him. You understand, don't you?" Harry said with the most sincere, pleading face he could muster.

"Oh Harry," Hermione said with her most sympathetic face. "Of course. We can help you, you know. We're your friends, we'll do whatever we can to help."

Ginny nodded her head enthusiastically.

"Thanks you guys. It really means a lot to me," Harry said with a small shy smile, while grinning internally. This could work to his advantage.

"So how long has this been going on!" Ginny asked in a hushed but excited voice.

"It's sort of been building up for a bit, but this morning was the first time we really... did anything," Harry admitted, grinning at the memory.

"That must have been a pretty hot and heavy snogging session to leave you looking like _that_." Ginny said, with a wicked smirk.

Harry blushed but his grin only grew wider.

"It was my first real kiss, too," He admitted, truthfully. Happy that he actually had the opportunity to tell someone about this monumental event, even if it was being sugar-coated in lies.

"Really?" Ginny exclaimed with a big grin. "That's so great, Harry. Was it good?"

Harry barked out a laugh. "Good? It was bloody brilliant. It was... it was amazing. All of it was just so far beyond anything I ever could have hoped for or imagined! I... Merlin I think I..." he cut off, stunned by what he was about to say.

"Think you what?" Hermione prodded.

"I think I love him," Harry finished in a near-whisper. Did he? Did he even know what love was? He took on a determined look and nodded his head to himself. If anything was love, this was.

"I mean... it's early and all. We really only just admitted to each other how we feel, but we've been dancing around it for months now. I really... I really do think I love him."

"Wow..." Ginny said in a hushed whisper.

Hermione just looked stunned. Finally she spoke, "you two have been meeting for months?"

Harry ducked his head and made himself look ashamed, "Yeah... I'm sorry I kept it secret from you, but you already know why. I knew I couldn't do anything that would risk him being exposed. It really has nothing to do with me not trusting you guys, I just didn't want to do anything that could risk it. It's not my secret to risk. Not my secret to tell."

Hermione looked a bit disappointed but nodded her head. "I understand, Harry. I'm hurt, I won't lie about that, but I understand. Just, _please_, don't feel like you have to hide these things from us. We're your friends. You can rely on us! We'll help you."

Harry grinned and looked up at them through his eyelashes. "Thank you. Both of you. I really do appreciate it. And honestly... it's kind of nice to have someone to talk to about it. Even if I can't give any specifics.

– –


	25. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

"You know, I'm really impressed with how well you're handling this, Ginny," Hermione said later that evening as the two sat alone in Hermione's dorm room. Hermione had offered earlier to help Ginny with her Arithmancy essay, and the two had opted to do their work upstairs, since the twins, Lee Jordan, and Seamus Finnigan were busy teaching several of the pure-blooded students how to play muggle poker. They were being quite loud about it too.

"What do you mean?" Ginny responded, trying to look as if she really didn't know what Hermione was talking about.

"We both know how you used to feel about Harry," Hermione said, raising a single eyebrow, as if daring the other girl to deny it.

Ginny rolled her eyes and grimaced. "Yeah... well, not only was there the whole 'Boy-Who-Lived' legacy and my girl-hood crush, but he also saved my life, first year. I think it's understandable for me to have been a bit infatuated," Ginny said defensively.

Hermione smiled knowingly. "Still, like I said, I'm impressed with how well you're dealing."

Ginny sighed and set down her quill. "When the news first came out in the paper that Harry was gay, I was in total denial. I was absolutely sure that that rag of a paper was just spouting more idiotic lies. But then Harry himself confirmed it. I guess it made me realize that there really was no chance of any sort of romantic thing ever happening between us. Sure, a part of me was still in denial, but it was a pretty small part.

"I suppose I figured that if there really was no chance of him being my happily-ever-after, I could at least be his friend. Once the fear of screwing up my future chances with my '_prince charming'_ were blown out the window, my shyness was a lot easier to get over. It's a lot easier to act like _me_ now, you know?"

"Yes. And that's really great, Ginny," Hermione said, smiling.

Ginny shrugged. "I guess. But like I said, part of me was still in denial. It really does seem so much more _real_ now. It's still hard to wrap my head around the fact that _Harry_ was snogging _some boy_ and got marked up like _that!_"

Hermione blushed but grinned and nodded her head enthusiastically. "I know! I never would have thought he'd have it in him. But then again, I never would have imagined him dancing with Fleur the way he did back at the Yule Ball."

Ginny groaned. "Don't remind me of that night. I almost melted into a puddle, just _watching _him."

They both giggled for a moment before the two settled into a quiet moment as their eyes went unfocused and they were each lost in their own memories of that night.

"I wonder who it was," Ginny mused quietly after a long moment.

"Hmm?"

"Who Harry was snogging. I wonder who the guy is."

"I don't know. I'll admit I'm incredibly curious, but Harry does have a valid reason to keep it quiet. The tabloids refuse to leave him alone. Just imagine what they would do with the news that he was seeing someone."

Ginny nodded her head and looked solemn. "He just can't get a break, can he?"

Hermione sighed. "No he can't. I hope that whoever this boy is that he's seeing, he's good for him. Harry deserves whatever happiness he can get. Merlin knows he's seen more than enough misery over the years," she finished bitterly, thinking about Harry's horrible muggle relatives.

"Yeah," Ginny added with a sigh.

– –

Harry felt the sudden dramatic increase in the powerful swirling parselmagic around Tom and set his book down. He looked up and watched with stunned awe as the man sitting cross-legged on the floor several feet from him suddenly began to morph and transform, right before his eyes.

Tom's skin went pale gray and transformed into a diverse patterning of different sized scales. His nose flattened against his face, shifting into two thin slits. His lips thinned until they disappeared, his neck lengthened minutely, and a small, cobra-like hood stretched from the sides of his neck down to his shoulders.

His hair and eyebrows thinned and then vanished, leaving a perfectly smooth, bald whitish-gray head. His ears shrunk down to just two small nubs and holes, and his already slitted, red eyes, went even more serpentine than before, so that there were no longer any whites left to them now.

"Wow..." Harry whispered in awe as Tom suddenly heaved forward and panted from the magical draw the first successful transformation had wracked on his body.

Tom... well, maybe it was easier to think of him as Voldemort when he was like this. _Now_ he looked like Voldemort... he sat there resting for a moment, gathering up his strength before he slowly stood to his feet. Harry scrambled to his feet and stood there, still awestruck by the person he saw before him.

"Will... will it be that hard to transform every time?" Harry asked, honestly a bit concerned.

Voldemort chuckled and it came out with some hisses. "No, Harry. It will get much easssier now. The first successssful transformation is the one that is the hardest. Each subsequent time I do it, it will be come easier and eassssier until it is second nature."

Harry nodded his head, thinking back to his own serpentine transformation that he learned for the second task. It had been the same way.

"So... wow..." Harry's voice trailed off as his eyes trailed up and down the other man's changed body. He could feel his own parselmagic reacting to Voldemort's. It was pouring off him in glorious, powerful, waves and it made Harry feel heady and hot. "Bloody hell... there has got to be something off about me that I still find you incredibly hot," Harry said in a surprisingly husky voice.

Voldemort smirked and rose a single hairless brow at him in amusement. He took a few casual strides to Harry and wrapped one of his gray, long-fingered hands around the back of Harry's neck, pulling him close and pressing his non-lips against Harry's. Harry moaned out in ecstasy as the magic shot through him and he felt his knees grow weak from the intensity. Harry's hands came up and fisted in Voldemort's loose open robes, pulling insistently for a moment before the older wizard pulled away, leaving them both panting with desire.

"You are... unbelievable," Voldemort said, with a wicked grin spreading across his lipless face.

"Wha... why?" Harry said, trying to pull himself back together.

"That you could still find such a creature as me desirable," Voldemort said, smirking. But Harry could see the slightest hint of that deeper emotion in the man's serpentine eyes.

"Harry smiled back up at him and slowly rose his hand up, brushing his fingertips delicately over the scaled skin of Voldemort's neck. The Dark Lord actually turned his head, exposing more of his neck to Harry's gentle caresses and the action filled Harry with surprised exhilaration. Harry's hand rested against the whitish-gray skin and brushed gently up and down, memorizing the strange, smooth texture, before he leaned in and placed his lips against Voldemort's long neck.

He sucked and licked hesitantly at first, still unsure what he was doing, but he slowly grew confidence. He pulled back and looked up to find two red, glowing eyes boring down into him hungrily. Suddenly, the snake-like face looking down at him morphed and shifted back into the handsome features of Tom Riddle.

Harry smiled up at the beautiful man and pulled himself up while Tom bent down and their lips met again. It started simple but grew in intensity as the two began to grope and claw at each other.

It was an occasion for celebration, after all. Tom had completed his transformation at last, and things could finally begin.

– –

"Harry, you have to see this!" Hermione said in an urgent hushed voice as she came to stand behind him in the Great Hall. It had been two days since Tom achieved his full transformation and Harry was supposed to be at the manor house that night for a rather special event. All he could do was hope that whatever it was that Hermione had to talk about, wouldn't make him late.

"What's up?" He asked turning around and giving her a concerned look.

She looked from side to side as if she were checking for eavesdroppers. Harry realized that Ginny was standing beside her looking just as anxious.

"It's about the book, Harry. We need to go somewhere private."

Harry nodded his head and stood from the bench seat he was sitting at. "Sure. I can always grab something from the kitchens later. Lets go."

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was deep into a rather enthusiastic conversation with Seamus and one of the 5th years that Harry didn't know very well. Ron didn't even seem to notice them going, so Harry pushed it out of his mind.

He led Ginny and Hermione to an empty classroom, and at Hermione's insistence, he put up one of his usual privacy wards.

"I really need to learn how to do those," Ginny said as she watched him silently casting the ward around the room.

"It's not that hard. So what's this about?"

Hermione dug into her bag and pulled out the bound parchment book that she had been translating the book into and opened it to a marked page before handing it to him. He looked at her questioningly, but she just nodded at the book. He glanced at Ginny and she rolled her eyes. "Just _read_ it!"

_G.s 14252_

_In the year of Gildred the Second, 14,200, the circle of Sight and Time gathered once again and foretold the end of this world. Just as our great race had to abandon our last home when it befell __its fated destruction, we have seen that we will need to abandon this one as well. This saddens us greatly, however it is for this very reason that we convene the circle of Sight every hundred years. We have much time to prepare, this end will not come for many millennium. The High Council sees no risk that we will not find a suitable home and be gone long before this world's fate falls upon it, but it is with a heavy heart that we leave behind so many great and diverse beings. We can only save ourselves. The magical creatures of this world will be left to fend for themselves, and it was __the non-magical Men of this world that our Seers have foretold will bring about this worlds destruction. We cannot save any of them. We have no choice but to leave._

_G.t 14252_

_The Higher have managed to commune with the Magic of this world, and has told it of our Sight of this world's fate. The Magic watches over those of this world with the magical connection and would not want to see it's Children come to an end at the hands of the non-magical Men who are slowly spreading across the lands like vermin._

_The Magic, however, was already aware of the eminent End of days, and did not need our warning. The Higher has documented that which the Magic has said of it's great intentions to save __its Children._

_The Magic cannot personally save those of the world, for __its ability does not lie within direct interference. It can only provide its Children with the tools to save themselves, and point them in the right direction._

_We have seen that there are those among the magical creatures who have chosen to breed with the non-magical Men. Their half-breed offspring have gained access to the magic, and have begun to learn to master their powers. But Magic has deemed that Man is not to possess this power, for it is their lust for the magic that will bring the End._

_The Magic has decided to chose those among the magical half-breeds who are worthy to keep the powers secret and safe from those not worthy. It will be the day that those Men of non-magical blood, learn to steal it from those who have been deemed worthy, that the End will come._

_G.t 14309_

_A half-breed Man of Magic has come to power. He is a cambion – the child of an incubus daemon father, and a non-magical daughter of Man – and he goes by the name Merlin Ambrosius. Magic has deemed him the first Lord of the Dark Magics. He has allied himself with one a non-magical Men, a king of Men by the name of Arthur Pendragon. Arthur's half-sister, by a different mother is also of the Magic. Her mother was of Fay decent and possesses great skill. Her name is Morgan __LeFay and she has been deemed the first Lord of the Light Magics. Magic has chosen these two great powers to help guide those of both Magic and Men, to keep the power of magic from the non-magical Men. The two Lords must fight to maintain balance, but also to keep the power of Magic within those who Magic has deemed worthy. Each generation will spawn a new Lord – one of the Light, and one of the Dark, to take on the task._

_The Lords have to keep the magic from the non-magical Men. If those of Magic's choosing can succeed in this task, they can save themselves, and the other magical creatures of this world from the coming End. If they fall to the non-magical Men, then all will perish._

_Will these actions be enough to save this world? We do not know. We can only pray for those of this world as we make our final preparations to leave. We have found our new homeland and many are ready to depart. What will befall this world that we have called home for so many millennia? Will Magic's great plan save it's magical Children? Is their fate sealed? We will likely never know, for once we have left, we can never return._

Harry reached the end and paused. "Is this the end of the book?" He asked, looking up at Ginny and Hermione.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head, "but it's as far as we've translated. It's almost at the end, there's only a little left."

"We need to finish it," Harry said, looking back down at the collection of bound parchment in his hands.

They were silent for a moment before Hermione spoke, "Do you... do you think it's true?"

"I don't know. I think it's possible. I know that those who speak parselmagic are descendants of a human and naga union."

"Naga!" Ginny gasped.

"Where did you hear that!" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up slowly contemplating his next words. "I... managed to find a book on the history of parselmagic. I special ordered it earlier in the year. Cost a small fortune," he lied easily. "Probably got it sometime around November. It was back when I was preparing for the first task and the dragons. It talked about how the magical lines that retained the ability to practice parselmagic were all descended from the Naga. Parselmagic is _their type of magic._

"That's why I can perform it wandlessly. It's like how house elves and goblins can do magic without a wand. Naga don't need wands either, they have their own kind of magic. That's parselmagic. Thats also why parseltongue has a written language. Its the script that the Naga use."

Ginny and Hermione looked stunned.

"But how would that explain muggle-borns?" Ginny asked suddenly, glancing over at Hermione.

"Descendants of squibs who got exiled by their magical families, I reckon," Harry said, shrugging.

"You think I'm descended from a squib!" Hermione gasped and then looked thoughtful. "I wonder if it's true... I wonder if there's a way to find out."

"I'm pretty sure Gringotts can do it," Harry said, shrugging.

"Oh! I bet they can!" Ginny gasped.

"What? The goblins? How?" Hermione asked.

"They can do blood tests that determine lineage. Its one of the ways that the figure out if a claim to an inactive vault account is valid."

"Isn't that a dark art? Blood magic is banned!" Hermione gasped.

"Pfft," Harry rolled his eyes. "Like the Goblins give a damn about the Ministry's laws about those sorts of things. The Goblin Nation is sovereign with a mutually beneficial treaty in place with the Ministry. The Goblins are under no requirements to follow all of the Ministry's laws. Especially when the laws are banning something as useful as blood magic. Those bans are just made out of ignorance and fear, blood magic is only barely a dark art."

"You _like_ blood magic?" Ginny asked, looking a bit unsettled by the idea.

"If it weren't for blood magic, I wouldn't be here. My mum used a life-for-life sacrificial blood ritual to save me from the killing curse."

Both girls were rendered speechless by this proclamation. It was Hermione that seemed to pull herself out of it first. "Wha... how... how do you figure that?"

"I've been doing some digging. Asking some people and searching through different things that might explain what happened that night. Everyone is convinced that it was something that _I did_ that stopped Voldemort that night, but I'm convinced it was my mum. Not me. I was a perfectly normal baby up until that point. Dumbledore told me that he thinks the night Voldemort tried to kill me, some of his magic ended up seeping into me, and that explains the parseltongue, but I think it really only activated what was already there."

"What do you mean!" Hermione asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised if there was some naga blood somewhere in my ancestry. Chances are it was _way_ back, and got diluted so much over the generations that any access to the parselmagic was lost. But when Voldemort attacked me and the blood ritual my mum did screwed everything up, some of his magic did go in me. But I don't think that would really have been enough to give me the ability to use parselmagic like I do. I'm convinced I had to have had some actual naga blood in me. Voldemort's power just gave it enough strength to make it active."

The group was quiet for another minute as they all took it all in.

"Are you sure you didn't get Morgan and Merlin mixed up?" Ginny asked Hermione, suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Well, the translation said that Merlin was a Dark Lord! That's crazy! And it said that Morgan LeFay was a Light Lord! That can't be right."

"I don't know..." Hermione said slowly, "From what I've read, Morgan LeFay was supposed to be really renowned for her magical healing abilities. That's a very Light branch of magic.

"And just because Merlin is known as one of the 'greatest wizards in history', doesn't mean he didn't use Dark magic," Harry said.

"But Dark Lords don't help people!" Ginny hissed.

"Says who?" Harry asked, defensively.

"But... but they're _Dark!"_

"Dark doesn't equal evil, you know," Harry said, folding his arms over his chest and arching his brows daringly. "Dark and Light are branches of magic that they have a natural affinity for, not a direct indication of of their moral convictions."

Both Hermione and Ginny were frowning, and giving him hesitant, concerned, looks now and he knew it was time to backtrack.

"Hey, I'm just being the devil's advocate. It seemed relative to what we've just read here, that's all."

"Harry's right," Hermione said, eventually. "And he does have a point. Even if Merlin was technically a 'Dark Lord' he was the first one, and it had a much different meaning back then, then it does now. Anyway, do you really think that this could be true? What about the stuff about the... about the _end of the world?"_

"It made it sound like their prophecy, or whatever you want to call it, said that muggles would be responsible for it," Harry said slowly.

"I think it said that if the muggles found a way to steal magic from those with magic, that it would somehow be responsible for bringing about the end," Ginny said.

"And that it's the task of the Lords to keep that from happening," Harry said in a whispery voice with dawning realization. "That's why Voldemort originally went after the muggles. He figured that if he destroyed them all first, they couldn't destroy us."

"What?" Ginny asked.

"No! You don't think!" Hermione gasped. "You think he knows about this?" she asked, indicating the translated copy of the book.

Harry slowly nodded his head, his mind still whirling with this latest discovery.

_Tom was actually trying to save the world, and no one even knew it!_

"The thing is, it would never work. There're just too many muggles. And their technology is advancing too fast. Genocide would never actually work. In fact, it would alert them to our existence faster, and give them a reason to fight against us. A reason to try and steal our magic," Harry continued. "There has to be another way to prevent this... this _End of days_."

_That's what Tom is doing now. Trying to find another way..._

"Who do you suppose the Light Lord is?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"Hmm?" Harry said, pulling out of his musings and looking down at her.

"It says that every generation there's a light and a dark lord, and they have to fight to maintain the balance and they both have to work towards saving the world or whatever – right? So if Voldemort was the Dark Lord, then –"

"Dumbledore," Harry said with a very sure nod of his head. "It's definitely Dumbledore."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, agreeing. "It probably _is_ him."

"So do you think Dumbledore knows about this then?" Ginny asked, pointing at the translated book.

Harry looked thoughtful for a long moment before shaking his head. "I don't think he does. Or if he knows any of it, I think he's mistranslated it. I don't think he really understands. Or maybe he thinks it's possible to save everyone. He thinks he can save the muggles _and_ wizards. Voldemort was willing to sacrifice the muggles if it meant saving everyone else."

Ginny gasped and Hermione looked dumbstruck.

"You're suggesting that Voldemort was trying to save the world?" Ginny asked in a voice that suggested she thought he was absolutely mental. "That's ridiculous!"

"I'm not suggesting anything!" Harry backtracked defensively. "I'm just making some hypothesis off of what we've just read and what I know. That's all."

"That sounds like suggesting to me," Ginny said.

"Well, he had to have a motive, didn't he?" Harry barked back, defensively. "I personally, would like to know _why_ he did the things he did. _Why_ he came after me and why he killed my parents. If this is the reason why, then I'd like to know!"

"He didn't need a reason why, he was a psychopath!" Ginny yelled.

"And you think that all the dark wizards in Britain would follow him if he were just a psychopath? Besides – honestly? I would much rather my parents died at the hands of someone fighting for something they believed in, than being killed my some lunatic who just enjoyed killing for sport."

"I don't see how it makes a difference," Ginny retorted, but with less enthusiasm now. "Why would you want to humanize that monster anyway? He _killed your parents._ He's tried to kill _you_ several times! He – he made that d-diary and nearly killed me!"

"I'm not trying to humanize him! I'm just trying to understand, alright? I mean, why the hell did he come after _me_ of all people? Because he was coming after _me;_ not my parents. My parents _knew _he was coming after me too. That's why my mum had that blood ritual prepared. She knew that Voldemort would be coming to kill _me_. Why? Dumbledore knows, but he refused to tell me."

"What do you mean, he knows?" Hermione asked.

"I asked him first year after the whole mess with the stone and killing Quirrell and he told me I was too young for him to tell me the truth. Meanwhile, I have to face Voldemort every year, blindly. Ignorant of what is really going on, and totally unprepared. All of the advanced training I've done, I've had to do on my own because he refuses to openly train me. Why? What does he really want with me? I think these are pretty important questions and I have every right to be asking them."

"Did you know that this book would talk about this?" Hermione asked out of nowhere and Harry came up short. "Where did you get this book?"

Harry's mouth floundered for a moment, wondering how to respond. His mind was working fast and he quickly settled on a plan.

"I was told that I would find something in this book that was important. That it would help me to understand what was really going on. But that was it. It was just... really vague and entirely unhelpful, but I was told how to find the book and that it was important. That's it."

"Told by who?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Harry swallowed. He knew that the next thing he was about to say would probably make Hermione paranoid, but it was the best thing he could come up with, and he felt like he could spin it to work for him.

"Would you believe me if I told you I think it was Magic?" Harry asked, cringing slightly.

"Magic?" Hermione deadpanned.

"Yeah, as in the er... entity Magic. You know, like if Magic was a sentient being or something? I think maybe it was a vision?" Harry continued, but it came out more as a question.

"A vision, Harry? Oh Merlin!" Ginny groaned and Hermione looked both worried and skeptical.

"Harry, what if it wasn't some magical entity. What if it was Voldemort or something? You said that you had some strange nightmares at the start of the year. What if it was that? What if it was a trick?"

"It's just a book, Hermione! And I'm positive the idea was not sent to me from Voldemort. Honestly!" _Just a detached piece of his soul..._

"How can you be sure?"

"My visions of Voldemort always made my scar hurt. This one didn't," Harry finished definitively and crossed his arms over his chest.

Hermione frowned and pursed her lips but didn't retort.

"Anyway, I think this stuff is important. I think that this is the part that I was meant to find. We need to get the rest of it translated so we can see if there's anything more."

The group agreed and finally disbanded. Harry checked his watch and grumbled at how much time that had taken. He barely had enough time to make it across the grounds and port-key to the manor.

He slipped into a bathroom, put on his cloak and a silencing charm and began to race out of the castle and across the grounds. His mind was still whirling with what he'd read, and wondering how he would bring it up with Tom. He hadn't told Tom about the book or what he was doing with Hermione and Ginny in translating it. He wasn't sure why, but he just hadn't.

He supposed it was just one of those things that he had wanted to find on his own. Would Tom think he'd been hiding things though? He hated the thought that the other man might suspect him of any form of secrets or betrayal. Especially so early on in their 'relationship'. He was afraid of doing anything wrong that would screw up what was happening.

He huffed in frustration. He needed to tell Tom. He wouldn't keep this hidden from the other man, no matter how scared he was of what would happen. He just had to be honest. The truth of the matter was that he'd long ago given up on the idea of the book providing him with anything other than an interesting glimpse into the history of a dead race. Or, what he had thought to be a dead race. He supposed this latest revelation meant that they weren't dead – they had just left.

Harry finally crossed the wards and pulled his sleeve up, muttering the activation into the port-key and disappearing with a soft pop.

– –

Harry was about half way up the stairs when he heard another _pop_ in the entrance hall behind him. He turned around and saw the grizzled form of his Defense teacher, 'Moody'. He smirked. It had been a while since he'd been in the manor at the same time was when Barty made one of his infrequent visits.

"Hey Barty," Harry said, pausing on the stairs and waiting for the other man to join him. 'Moody' smirked and began to hobble up the stairs.

"Potter," he said with a nod of his head.

"Our Lord has regained his old appearance. Just giving you a heads up," Harry said as they began to climb the stairs together.

"He has? Have you seen it?" 'Moody' asked with an eager fire glowing in his eyes.

Harry smiled and ducked his head again before nodding. "I have. He's glorious."

They came to the door of the study and Harry knocked lightly on the door.

"Come," the voice called out in a commanding tone and Harry pushed the door open a bit and peered through. Voldemort was sitting in his office chair behind his desk. Opposite him in one of three chairs was Severus Snape. Harry smirked.

Snape twisted slightly in his chair and scowled at the sight of Harry standing there.

"We're _both_ here. Is... _he_ supposed to be aware of our other friend_?_" Harry asked, jerking his chin towards Snape, and then nodding his head back over his shoulder.

Voldemort smirked slightly and inclined his head. "Yes Harry. You are both to enter."

Snape's face betrayed his confusion and curiosity for a moment before he masked the emotions away.

Harry pushed the door all the way open and strode confidently inside and sat down in the open chair to Snape's right. Snape watched him with hatred in his eyes, but his gaze was instantly drawn back to the door. Harry watched as Snape's eyes went wide in absolute disbelief as Mad-Eye Moody walked in through the open doorway, glaring and sneering down at the Potions master.

"You!" Snape gasped. There was no masking the absolute shock on the man's face now and Harry snickered. Snape turned and glared again at Harry, who just kept on grinning as the supposed ex-auror limped his way across the room and sat down in the last remaining chair.

Voldemort didn't waste much time in explaining to Snape who 'Moody' actually was, but Harry had still greatly enjoyed the potion master's reaction to the revelation. Snape had apparently been there for about thirty minutes when Harry and 'Moody' had arrived, so his debriefing was already done. Voldemort spent the next fifteen minutes describing the tasks he had for the two professors at the school, which mostly just involved keeping their eyes open, and reporting on any conversations they had with Dumbledore or the other staff members that appeared to be of any value.

It was already expected that 'Moody' would not be returning as the Defense teacher again the next year. Not only would it look suspicious if a teacher was suddenly able to get around the jinx on the position, it would also be difficult keeping the real Alastor Moody alive inside his own trunk for that long. As it was, the ex-auror's health was already seriously failing and Barty wasn't sure the man would actually survive to the end of term, 6 weeks away.

The two professors were especially instructed to pay close attention and immediately report on, anyone voicing suspicions on Harry's Potter's behavior or loyalties.

The meeting was concluded and Voldemort instructed Harry to remain behind. Snape sneered at Harry as he passed and left the room. Barty smirked and jerked his chin in a departing gesture.

As soon as the magical energy of the two wizards had disappeared from the manor, Voldemort sat down, heavily in his chair, sighed, and morphed back into Tom Riddle. Harry smiled at the sight, pulled out his wand and banished the three chairs to the back of the room and sat down on the floor beside Tom's chair.

Tom's long fingers ran into Harry's hair and the younger wizard sighed happily. The two remained quiet for a moment before Harry gave a much more resigned sounding sigh and cleared his throat.

"I need to tell you something."

Tom's fingers stopped and he slowly removed them. Harry was about to begin when Tom stood up and motioned for Harry to follow. The younger was confused, but did as instructed. The two made their way down the hall and ended up in the library. Tom went straight to the chaise lounge and sat down on the end that had two backs, forming a corner and then patted the space beside him.

Harry eyed the spot with wide eyes for a moment before grinning and sitting down beside Tom. Tom wasted no time in guiding Harry's head down into his lap and Harry could only grin wider as he sighed happily in what he had just now decided was his absolute favorite position to be in.

"Now, Harry, what is it you need to tell me?" Tom said letting his hand come up and thread into Harry's hair again.

"Back, just a short while before I came to you, but after I had had several visions from in your head, I began to wonder about something I'd heard you think on several occasions," Harry began.

"You had thought about your '_task', _but I couldn't quite figure out what you were referring to, even from the context. But I was curious. I asked the portion of your soul in me if he knew or if he could tell me anything about it. He said he couldn't, but he directed me to something that he said would help me figure it out. He told me to look underneath Slytherin's desk inside his study in the Chamber."

At this, Tom's hand stopped moving.

"I found the book. Obviously, it was in some language I couldn't read so I asked him if there was anything that would help me translate it. So he directed me to the book on the Old Aldric language. I slowly started working on translating it in my free time. I couldn't see anything in the book that answered my question about your task, and after I while I practically forgot that was the reason I started translating it.

"It ended up being the thing I used to get Hermione to think I'd started trusting her again. She needed to be included in something I was doing, and the bit of your soul told me that this would be a good project to do that. He told me that it would be 'enlightening' for her if she helped translate the book. So I got her a copy of the original text and she's been working on translating it in her free time ever since.

"All the stories, up until now, just seemed like historical journal entries from the ancient elves. It was fascinating in a historical sense, but none of it seemed relevant to anything important. That's the reason I never mentioned it. Like I said, I basically forgot that this whole thing started out with the intention of figuring out your 'task'. I don't want you to think I was hiding something. I would never hide something from you if I thought it was important, and I really didn't at the time. I feel stupid now, looking back, and I'm really sorry..."

"You got to the end," Tom's voice cut in.

Harry nodded his head. "Just about. Hermione and Ginny have been doing all the translating lately. I've helped a bit, but mostly I've just let them work on it while I hung around. It's given them the sense that we're still close and everyone else in Gryffindor always sees us hanging out together, which has helped convince people that I've made up with them."

"Ginny? Ginny Weasley? Isn't she the girl –"

"That had your diary in my second year, yeah."

"Hmm..."

"Yeah," Harry said and sighed heavily. "Anyway, Hermione and Ginny got to these three entries – one about the old elves' seers making some prediction about the end of the world. Then an entry about some group contacting Magic to warn it? But it already knew. That the prophecy basically said that muggles would bring about the end of the world by trying to steal magic that wasn't theirs. And that two lords would be selected from the magical-human half-breeds – from wizards – a Dark Lord and a Light Lord, and that it would be their task to stop the muggles from taking magic, and save the wizards and the magical creatures from the muggle's apocalypse..." Harry's voice trailed off and he sighed. "Is it true?"

"Yes, Harry," Tom's voice said softly. "There is a bit more to it than that, but that is the gist of it."

"I'm sorry if it seems like I was hiding something from you," Harry apologized in a strained, quiet voice. Part of him was terrified that Tom would be angry with him. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this. I swear I'll tell you of anything like this I'm doing in the future. It just seemed like a side pet-project to keep Hermione and Ginny busy. I didn't –"

"Shhh... it's okay Harry. I'm not angry," Tom said, reassuringly as he began to run his hand through Harry's hair again.

Harry heaved a great, relieved breath. "Really?" he gasped hopefully.

"Yes, Harry, really."

Harry sighed and nuzzled his face into Tom's thigh and smiled. The two were quiet for a moment before Harry spoke again.

"I'm glad it's you," he said in a near-whisper.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad that you're the Dark Lord. If anyone can do it, you can."

Tom barked a small laugh and then sighed. "I hope you're right."

– –


	26. Chapter 26

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

It was May 24th; precisely one month before the third task, and that evening at 9pm the champions were supposed to gather to be informed of the details of the task. Of course, Harry already had a vague understanding of what the task would involve, mostly thanks to Barty.

Harry was instructed by Professor McGonagall to go to the Quidditch Pitch at 9pm, and he came across Cedric as he made his way out there.

"Hey, Potter," Cedric said, dipping his chin in greeting as he caught up to Harry. Harry nodded his head back and kept on walking. "Any idea what's coming up this time?" Cedric asked. Apparently the older boy was in the mood for small-talk.

Harry shrugged. "Nope. Not a clue," he lied.

They reached the large stands of the pitch and made their way through, past the locker rooms and out onto the field. Instead of the smooth pristine lawn that was usually there, rows upon rows of small hedges appeared to have been planted. Harry had been expecting this, but he still grimaced at the sight. Cedric looked affronted.

"What the ruddy hell have they done to the pitch!" he gasped.

The two were spotted by Ludo Bagman who was standing a bit further ahead with Fleur and Krum beside him.

"Ah! There you two are! Come on now, let's get this show on the road! Now don't you worry, your pitch will be returned to its original condition when the tournament is over. What you see here now is what will soon become a magical maze!" the man said excitedly. "In one months time these hedges will be more than two meters tall, and will form a maze that will be filled with all manner of dangerous magical creatures and challenges. It will be the task of you four young wizards and witch to make your way through the maze to the center! Whoever reaches the center first gets full points! Each subsequent champion will be scored based on the time it took them to complete the task, as well as the magical techniques they used to defeat the challenges they met along the way! Now, do we have any questions?"

–

Harry was making his way away from the pitch some twenty minutes later. Bagman was an overeager windbag and he had spent far too long describing something that was fairly simple. They weren't going to tell the champions anything specific about the task, just that there was a maze and that there would be scary dangerous shit inside it. How _that_ had taken more than twenty minutes to explain was beyond him.

Harry didn't usually visit the manor this late at night simply because he usually didn't have any good excuses to slip out of the castle this late, but since he was already outside the castle wards he didn't see any reason not to take advantage of the opportunity that had been provided to him and was now making his way towards the edge of the forest so he could disappear from sight before 'disappearing' from the school.

He was just about to activate the portkey when he heard some strange muttering coming from a bit further within the tree line. He pulled out his cypress wand and began cautiously making his way inside the forest.

He came up short when he saw an extremely ragged and ill looking Mr. Crouch standing there and muttering incoherently to a tree.

Harry blinked at the man, wondering if he were imagining things. How the hell did the man get there? He was supposed to be locked up in one of the holding cells in the basement of the manor!

Harry walked forward slowly, keeping his wand to his side.

"Mr. Crouch?" Harry asked cautiously.

Crouch continued to speak to the tree as if he were talking to someone else. It appeared that he thought the tree was someone named Weatherby, and Harry vaguely remembered Crouch Sr. getting Percy's name wrong and calling him Weatherby a few times, so at first he assumed that Crouch was somehow under the delusion that he was speaking to Percy.

He stood there, listening in, trying to make sense of the ramblings for a moment longer. Crouch seemed to be under the illusion that he was speaking to someone about his son, but in his mind, Barty had only just graduated from Hogwarts. He was telling the man about all the NEWTs that Barty had scored.

"Mr. Crouch!" Harry said a little louder. This time it seemed to jerk Crouch Sr. out of his haze and he suddenly began to quiver and cower.

"You? You have to g-get Dumbledore... I have to warn him. Have to tell him. It's all my fault. I never should have... never should have... all my fault... have to warn them!"

"How did you get here, Mr. Crouch?" Harry asked a little louder now.

"Have to w-warn D-dumbledore. H-have to –"

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. "How did you escape? How did you get to Hogwarts? Did you apparate here?"

"Had to escape... had to get away. It's all my f-fault. Had to warn th-them. Fat little man... I st-stole his port-key. I have to w-warn Dumbledore!"

"Wormtail," Harry growled angrily.

Harry refocused on the sniveling Mr. Crouch and leveled his wand on the man. Crouch's eyes went cross-eyed as he gaped in surprise at the wand that now resided only inches from his nose.

"_Stupify!"_ Harry said, sending a red stunner right at the man's head and knocking him out cold.

Harry knelt down to his side and grabbed Crouch's hand. He held it against the leather cuff against his arm and whispered _Morsmordre_; activating the port-key and disappearing with a soft _pop._

Harry and the unconscious Mr. Crouch appeared in the entry hall of the manor. Harry dropped the man's hand and sneered down at him. Harry reached out with his senses and quickly determined that Tom was in his study. He raced up the stairs and pushed the door open.

Tom was in the middle of writing something and didn't immediately look up when Harry poked his head through.

"Tom we have a problem," Harry said and the other man's head jerked up and he frowned.

"Problem?"

"You should see this," Harry jerked his head over his shoulder and Tom quickly got to his feet.

Harry quickly turned and headed back to the stairs and began to race down them two at a time. Tom followed with equal speed, but considerably more grace. By the time he had reached the center of the stairs he could see the crumpled, unconscious form of Bartemius Crouch Sr. on the floor at the base and his eyes narrowed and anger began to build in him.

"How did this happen?"

"I found him at Hogwarts," Harry said, folding his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow.

"Hogwarts!" Tom hissed angrily.

"He was talking nonsense at first. Rambling to a tree like he thought he was at a dinner party or something. I yelled at him a few times before he seemed to snap out of it and started sniveling and whimpering about needing to warn Dumbledore."

Harry watched as the absolute fury in Tom began to grow exponentially.

"I managed to get him to say something about how he got to Hogwarts. He mentioned stealing a port-key from a _short fat man_."

Tom roared. "_WORMTAIL!_"

–

Harry was having considerable trouble getting to sleep that night. His whole body was on fire. The _good_ kind of fire. The excited, energetic, '_I'm way too awake to sleep'_ sort of fire. Harry had been given the honor and immense pleasure of holding Wormtail under the _cruciatus_ for nearly two whole minutes minutes. It had been far too long since the last time he'd gotten to use that curse on an actual living human, and he had almost forgotten how utterly fucking amazing it felt. How inexplicably exhilarating it was to hold someone under his power so completely. Listening to the man's tortured screams sent a sick perverse glee through him and left him light-headed.

His very nerve endings were alight with dark magical power. Every time he thought back to how incredible it had felt, he caught himself giggling quietly under his breath. It was a challenge to hold it in.

The hardest challenge, however, had been leaving the manor that night without accosting Tom. He'd been filled with the strongest desire he'd ever felt, to jump the man and grind against him relentlessly until the two were writhing and moaning against each other. He'd been so aroused by watching Tom punish the stupid little man, and also undeniably _high_ from the powerful dark curses. Watching Tom throw curses at the screaming, sniveling, pathetic little man had been a real laugh, but it was the pure power and control the man held that left him utterly awestruck, and inexplicably aroused. He'd latched onto the older wizard's mouth as soon as Wormtail had been violently kicked out of the room, and Tom had responded by pressing him against the wall for a hot, passionate, minute. But then Tom had abruptly broken it off and told Harry he needed to go back to the castle so Tom could re-secure the cells and get Crouch Sr. back under 'lock and key'.

To say that Harry 'pouted' would be an understatement. And now he was left, laying in bed, practically vibrating from a powerful dark magic high, and an annoyingly extreme arousal.

Huffing out in frustration, Harry reached under his pillow and pulled out his holly wand to cast a privacy charm around his bed. He slipped the loose cotton pants and his boxers down over his hips and began to tentatively run his thumb and palm along his straining arousal. A moan escaped his lips as images of Tom's lips, eyes, and long-fingered hands drifted through his mind.

His completion was almost embarrassingly fast. He was so sensitive, and he was already wound so tight. He lay in his bed, panting slightly and still basking in the glow of all the events and insanity of his late evening. He grabbed his wand and spelled the wet mess on his stomach away before collapsing into a restless sleep.

– –

It was now three weeks until the third task, and four weeks until the end of term. Harry had been waiting until now to send the charmed letter to the Dursleys 'persuading them' to allow him to stay with a friend over the holidays. He knew they would love the opportunity to be rid of him, but he also knew that they'd miss his services around the house and yard. Not to mention the fact that Vernon would enjoy any opportunity to make Harry's life miserable, and if refusing to allow Harry to go somewhere would make him miserable, Vernon would do it.

The Post Office in Hogsmeade not only rented out owls and post boxes, it also offered access to the muggle post and Harry planned to make use of that service in sending his letter to the Dursley's. Sending them an owl would be disastrous, so he wouldn't even bother trying that.

It was Saturday and Harry had every intention of heading down to Hogsmeade as soon as he was done with his breakfast. However half way through the meal McGonagall came up behind him and asked him if he would come join her in Professor Dumbledore's office.

Harry felt ice run through his veins, and only just barely managed to keep his expression neutral.

He had to keep reminding himself that this could be about any number of things, and to not panic. It was also important not to say or do anything that could give away anything until they had spoken first and he had some idea what this was about.

"Of course professor," Harry said, stuffing one last bite of his breakfast into his mouth and standing to his feet. He followed her in silence all the way up to the seventh floor to stand in front of the gargoyle that blocked the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Fizzing Wizbee," McGonagall said to the gargoyle and it jumped away revealing the entrance and the spinning spiral staircase.

Harry could feel his whole body stiff with nerves as he climbed up with McGonagall and entered through the two large doors. When he stepped inside, he found that _Hermione_ was there, sitting in one of two, overstuffed chairs, opposite Professor Dumbledore and looking rather awkward and clearly cowed by the powerful authority figure she was sitting before. Dumbledore was smiling calmly and looked up at Harry and McGonagall with that frustratingly irritating twinkle. Harry forced himself not to sneer. Sneering would be bad. Very, very bad.

Harry was motioned to sit in the other available chair while McGonagall went to stand beside Dumbledore behind his desk.

"So glad you could come join us, Harry," Dumbledore said with that grandfatherly smile of his. "Lemon drop?"

"Er... no thank you sir. Can I ask what this is about?" Harry asked, hesitantly.

"Yes, of course. Mrs. Granger has come to your head of house, expressing concern for your summer living arrangements. I was hoping that we could get this whole misunderstanding sorted out."

Harry felt himself relax considerably. He finally understood what was going on. All he could do at this point was hope that Hermione had taken his warning to heart and hadn't mentioned his intentions to go somewhere _else_ for the summer.

"Misunderstanding, sir?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding his head. "She seems to be under the impression that your relatives are not very fond of you, and do not treat you very well."

Harry deadpanned. "That would be an accurate assessment. If not, perhaps, a bit generous to the Dursleys."

"Whatever do you mean, Harry? I know that you and your relatives do not have the warmest of relationships, but they are still your family. Surely –"

"Professor, this is pointless," Harry cut him off rather curtly. "You and I both know how they treat me. We both also know that you're not going to let me go anywhere else."

"How _do_ they treat you, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, glancing down at Dumbledore with accusing eyes for a moment.

"They fundamentally despise me. They both hate and are terrified of magic and everything associated with it, and of course _me_ for being the thing that has forced them to interact with magic. Growing up, they made it their goal to try and 'beat the freakishness out of me'. They spew obscenities at me; calling me worthless and insinuating that I'm less than human and that I don't deserve to live. They call me a freeloader and a slacker, and then they force me to clean their house from top-to-bottom, mow their lawn, paint their house, clean out the eaves, and do all the gardening.

"I have to cook their meals for them, and then they refuse to let me eat any of it. Up until I got my letter for Hogwarts they made me live inside a cupboard underneath their stairs and would lock me in there. Now for punishment, they lock me into the smallest actual room in the house. Despite being an actual bedroom, it still has bars on the windows, numerous deadbolts on the door, and a cat-flap on the door as the only access to the outside world. They feed me stale bread and cold tea through the flap, and let me out once a day to use the loo and an extremely fast, cold shower. The only other time I'm allowed out of the room is to clean their house or fix their food.

"And if that's not enough, growing up my cousin Dudley made an official sport out of beating the shit out of me, and Aunt Petunia used to hit me with the frying pans whenever I screwed up their meals. If that is not an _abusive environment_, then I don't know what is."

McGonagall's face had gone pale and her mouth was hanging open a bit. She looked utterly horrified. Dumbledore was still smiling, although the twinkle was less prominent than usual.

"Now Harry, surely you can admit to exaggerating things just a bit," Dumbledore said, leaning forward, folding his hands, and speaking in a tone one would use when humoring a young child.

"Sadly enough, no, _Sir,_ I am not exaggerating one bit. But surely _you_ can admit that you were already well aware of the exact nature of my summer living arrangements."

"Albus!" McGonagall said, turning and looking down at him accusingly. "You cannot simply dismiss a claim such as this! If even half of what Harry says is true, you cannot seriously consider sending him back to those people!"

"Now Minerva, you know how important it is that Harry return to the protection that his mother's sacrifice has provided him with. The wards that exist around the Dursley's house are unsurpassed. There is no where else where Harry will be safer."

"Safe! Harry just told you that his cousin beats him up and his aunt hits him with frying pans! That they lock him in his room and starve him!" Hermione gasped.

"Now surely, Harry, it's not _that bad_," Dumbledore said in that tone that Harry now recognized as being insultingly condescending.

"Sir!" Hermione gasped and Minerva looked down at him with stunned disbelief.

"I will send a letter to Harry's family expressing my desire that they treat him with respect and treat him as a member of their family, but I simply must insist that Harry has to return to his relatives home."

Harry snorted. Hermione looked horrified and looked over at Harry. He responded by raising a single brow and giving her a rather obvious 'I told you so' sort of look.

"Albus..." McGonagall said in a warning tone, but Dumbledore held up a single hand that seemed to indicate that they would speak later.

"Now, Harry, I will consider allowing you to go visit your friend, Mr. Weasley, after you have been with your family for at least several weeks. It's necessary that you spend a certain amount of time each year with them in order to guarantee the continuation of the wards there. Once I feel that the wards have been secured, and believe that an adequately safe place can be established for you to stay, we can consider relocating you."

Harry kept his face blank while he listened to Dumbledore speak. He refused to allow any of his emotions show on his face, because even the slightest hint of his true anger would surely give him away. He was too close to the end of the year to risk anything now.

"Now, Harry, I need you to promise me that you'll stay at your relatives' house until I can arrange for a safe place for you to go instead," Dumbledore said, leveling Harry with a strong gaze. Harry met his eyes for the briefest moment and felt something beginning to press against his mind. With a tremendous force of will, he instantly wrenched his eyes away and ducked his head, looking down at his hands, clenched in his lap.

He could only hope that Dumbledore wouldn't think into it too much. Most people would have found in difficult to break that eye contact. Harry could feel the strong compulsion to retain eye contact and not blink. If it weren't for Tom's lessons, he probably wouldn't have been able to break away as easily as he had.

Harry's occlumency was proceeding well enough, but he didn't think he could stand up to a full assault from Dumbledore. And even if Dumbledore wouldn't have been willing to do that with two witnesses in the room, the shields that Harry did have in place would only call attention to him and make Dumbledore start to wonder about him.

It took a considerably higher skill level than what Harry possessed to trick someone doing a legilimense attack into thinking that they were undetected, while diverting them to your 'safe' thoughts and memories, and keeping them away from the more sensitive ones.

Harry was scowling angrily, but was letting his lengthy fringe fall over his face to hide it from view. He started to fiddle with the hem of his robes in an attempt to look nervous instead of furious.

"I promise, sir," Harry mumbled out. Again, trying his best to sound cowed by his headmaster instead of the raging inferno of anger. The fact that the man had been trying to read his mind... would he have even tried to manipulate his thoughts? He knew from his own experience, as well as his reading, and Tom's lessons that it was possible to implant thoughts and ideas into a person's mind.

Had Dumbledore implanted thoughts into his head before?

The fury was becoming harder to hold back. He knew he needed to get out of there, and soon.

"Harry..." Dumbledore said again, and Harry felt another wave of compulsion hit him to look up into the man's eyes. But he knew it for what it was and he wasn't going to let it work. In fact, all it did was serve to enrage him further. He clenched his jaw gnashed his teeth, trying to reign himself in. Blowing up in the headmaster's office would destroy his plans. He had to control his temper. He felt his companion in the back of his mind, pulling forward memories of his sessions with Tom, instructing him of the importance of concealing his true emotions and controlling the anger within him.

He pulled up his most powerful occlumency shields and tried to push all of his emotions behind a strong, impenetrable wall. He was extra thankful when he felt his companion joining in and strengthening the wall around both his thoughts, memories, and his emotions. He felt himself go completely numb and cold and let out a quiet shuddering breath at the sudden relief from the thundering anger.

"I really should go, sir," Harry said flatly, still staring resolutely down at his hands in his lap. "It's a Hogsmeade weekend and I had some errands I intended to run today."

He could feel the slightest indication of tension and curiosity in the older wizard's magic, and was greatly relieved when he heard Dumbledore shifting his his chair and finally allowing Harry and Hermione to leave.

The two were down the spiral staircase and halfway down the seventh floor corridor before Hermione exploded.

"I just... I _can't believe it!_" she yelled, in exasperation. Harry came to a jerky stop. The numbness was melting away and the fury was threatening to explode again. He needed to _destroy_ something.

He glanced down the hallway and saw the turn that would lead to the Room of Requirement. Tom had told him more about the room in the past weeks. Tom had been unable to frequently visit the Chamber after Myrtle's death, and had had to rely on the Room of Requirement for his Dark Arts practice. It was lacking Slytherin's books, but it was still an unplottable room, and was shielded from the wards the notified the headmaster about illicit, questionable, and illegal magical use. He could blow off some steam there.

"How can he treat it as if it were nothing!" she continued to rant on, her own anger growing as she was entirely blind to Harry's current mood. "It was as if he thought you were lying! How can he call himself a _teacher!_ How can he ignore such accusations! It's, it's... unethical! Would he do this to any child to came to him, with claims of child abuse! How many wizarding children have been sent back to abusive homes because that – that _man_ had the nerve to-to-to... URGH!"

Harry found himself being pulling slightly out of his growing insanity by the shock of Hermione having so blatantly disrespected _Dumbledore_. '_That man' huh? _Harry thought,_ 'perhaps there was still hope for her yet...'_

"_And you!"_ Hermione continued, "I cannot believe you didn't try harder, Harry! Why did you just let him insist that you had to go back? How could you just sit there and let him insinuate that you were lying about something _so important!"_

"It's easier this way, Hermione," Harry said simply and looking straight forward. "If I had stood up to him, he would be worried that I might stand up against him. He'd be suspicious that I might_ do something, _and he would have been watching me more carefully then. He might have even given me an escort or something – _for my own protection, of course,_" he sneered sarcastically. "But now that I've _promised _to play nice and go back to the Dursley's he'll leave me be and I'll be able to get away easier."

"But... but what about all that stuff you said about him not having any legal grounds to control where you go? You're right about that, he really doesn't! He has absolutely _no right_ to tell you that you have to keep going back to those awful people! You could go to Ministry about this! What your relatives are doing is criminal! Neglect and abuse of a minor is a serious crime, and they could be facing jail time! I mean, you could go to the muggle police even, but if not them, then surely there's some department in the Ministry for child services. It's just so... so... ARGH! I hate this! It's just infuriating! I cannot believe that he would allow this to go on happening! It just makes me so _angry_!"

An idea suddenly came to Harry and a tiny grin slid onto his face. It _could_ be a good idea...

"Want to go blow off some steam, with me?" Harry asked suddenly, pulling Hermione out of her angry ranting.

She stopped and looked at him in confusion. "What?"

Harry jerked his head towards the corridor and said, "Come on," before quickly striding away, without waiting to see if she'd follow.

She did, of course, and within a minute they were standing in front of the wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy – the crazy old wizard who tried to teach trolls to dance ballet.

"Harry, what are we doing here–"

Harry held up his hand to cut her off as he began to pace back and forth before the blank wall. Tom had told him exactly what to request of the room to guarantee that it would hid any dark arts use. He didn't exactly plan on using any while Hermione was in there with him, but he still figured it would be a good precaution to take, anyway.

Hermione gasped as a door materialized in the wall out of nowhere. He reached forward and opened it up; looking back over his shoulder and smirking devilishly at her.

"Harry, what is this?"

"This," he paused for dramatic effect, "is the Room of Requirement. It can become whatever you ask of it. You just walk back and forth in front of the wall, three times, and concentrate on exactly what you want, and the room will appear."

She gasped. "Is this where you've been coming all year?"

"Yup," Harry lied easily. Honestly, it was a perfect cover. And not nearly as worthy of concern as him sneaking down into Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber.

He led her inside and the room was a very large, open space with practice dummies, and large clay pots placed every few feet. He wanted to destroy some stuff, and the clay pots would help with venting some of his frustration. The dummies were something he had yet to actually try out, but Tom had told him about how much he had appreciated them when he was a student at Hogwarts and used the Room of Requirement for his own training.

Apparently, if you specified it, the training dummies could even simulate the effects the spells would have on actual people. If it was a spell that would rend the flesh from a person, it would tear the cloth skin off the dummy. They could even bleed, although it was supposed to be black like ink. He hadn't requested those specifications this time though because he suspected Hermione would have found that a bit disturbing.

"Harry, what is this place... I mean... what's with the pots and..." Hermione trailed off, looking about the large open space with obvious confusion.

"I'm angry, Hermione. I'm trying to keep it bottled in, but I need to let it out, and the safest place to do that is in here. If I keep it bottled up in me, I'll just end up exploding at one of the students," Harry said in a monotone voice causing her to gape at him with surprise.

"What exactly are you planning to do...?" she asked, slowly, as Harry took a few quick strides into the room and pulled out his holly wand. He wouldn't be doing anything dark in there with Hermione about, and he wasn't willing to risk her seeing his cypress wand and asking questions.

He took up a powerful duelers stance that Tom had been drilling into his head, drew his wand and continued straight into a smooth slashing motion and sent a powerful severing curse at one of the clay pots. It shattered along the large cut he'd made across its surface and clattered loudly to the ground.

Hermione gasped, but Harry didn't waste anytime. He quickly sent a blasting hex at another pot, causing it to explode, and then a _diffindo_ at one of the dummies. The feel of the spell impacting the dummy was far more satisfying than the hollow clay pot. No 'blood' came out, but the slashes did leave a puff of cottony stuffing sticking out.

He began to lose himself in the familiar motions, and the anger came to the surface, fueling the more explosive and damaging of the curses and hexes. Despite the powerful raging inferno of hate and disgust he felt pulsing through him for his one-time mentor, and ruiner of his whole life; he still managed to maintain enough of his mind to keep to school-approved spells – although most of them were NEWTs level. He was startled when he heard the sounds of a pot being smashed apart from behind him and turned to find that Hermione had sent a hex of her own at one of them. She ducked her head and grinned shyly at him. He smiled widely and gave her an encouraging nod.

He stayed mostly focused on his own emotional release, but he did pay Hermione enough attention to see that she was getting more and more into it the longer they continued. She even started to get a bit more creative as she went. Her offensive spell repertoire was considerably smaller than his, but he'd been working a lot on expanding the number of offensive neutral-affinity spells he knew, to use during the 3rd task. Barty had already warned him that the headmasters had a way to monitor all spells used inside the maze, so they could more adequately judge the champions spellwork and grade them appropriately.

Finally, Harry heard Hermione's attacks die away and he paused to turn and look at her. She was hunched over with her hands on her knees and panting lightly. He realized suddenly that she had hit a wall from magical exhaustion. She had used up all of her magic reserves. She just wasn't used to casting such destructive spells.

Harry knew that he wasn't even a fraction of the way through his magical reserves, but Tom had already told him that he and Tom were both anomalies among wizards. Few possessed the raw power that they did. He'd wondered what his own power level was in comparison to Tom's, but it had seemed rude to ask such a question when they were actually having that conversation. Besides he knew that even if they were somehow close in magical energy capacity, there was still a mountain of a gap between their spell repertoires and practical experience. Tom was simply in a league of his own. But he _was_ the Dark Lord.

"You alright, 'Mione?" Harry asked with a small grin.

She nodded her head and continued to catch her breath. Finally she stood up and gave him a scrutinizing look. "You're not even tired!" she accused in annoyance.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Practice helps some. Your magical core is a lot like a muscle. The more you exercise it, the better, faster, and stronger it will respond to you."

It was true – but it could really only take you so far. Even if she practiced 24/7 she could never build her core up to Harry's level.

"Have you been coming in here to practice often then?" she asked, surprised. In truth, Harry had spent very little of his time in Hogwarts away from Hermione, Ron, or Ginny, lately. He almost always had an alibi for his trips outside the school. Since he was using the time turner whenever he was at the manor, he had plenty of time for all of his extracurricular activities, without having to disappear from his 'friends' like he used to to go down to the chamber. He might have to start leaving an hour or two of time where he actually wasn't anywhere obvious just to make room for time that he was away 'training'. The task was coming up, after all. It would only make sense.

Harry shrugged. "I try to. Sometimes I get up early in the mornings to do it, sometimes I do it during one of my free periods when Ron is busy with some of the other guys. I actually really need to start doing it more regularly again, since the task is coming up in three weeks."

"Your spellwork was incredible," she said. "I've never even heard of half of the spells you were using."

"I've been trying to expand the number of offensive and defensive spells I know," Harry said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "With this stupid tournament, it's been rather important."

She nodded hear head and then looked around the mostly decimated room.

"This room can become anything you want?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Yup. You can even make changes after already being inside it," he said before focusing his mind and requesting a different room. It instantly began to shift and change around them and Hermione gasped in surprise. What had, moments earlier, been a large open room filled with crumbled clay pots and tattered training dummies was now a comfortable looking library-lounge. The walls were bookshelves filled with books, and in the center was a collection of couches and small tables.

"Merlin!" Hermione gasped as she raced over to the nearest bookshelf. "What books are these?"

"I can bring copies of any book that exists within the school's library into here. Including the restricted section. If the book exists in the school's library, it can exist here. But they can't be removed from the room. Slip it into your bag and walk out, and it will just vanish from your bag."

Hermione paused and then turned to look at him. "That's why you weren't able to bring out the old elf book? You could only access it from in here and whenever you tried to leave with it, it would just disappear?"

Harry blinked. It was a reasonable explanation, but now that she was in the room she would be expecting to see the actual book, and he still couldn't do that.

"Um... sort of –" Harry said slowly and in a hesitant voice. "But I don't think that book actually exists in the school's library either. Restricted section or not. It's sort of complicated. It will only appear for _me_. I don't think I could make it show up in here if anyone else was in here with me."

"What do you mean it will only appear for _you_? What sense does that make?"

"Hermione, how does this _room_ make sense?"

Hermione huffed and put her hands on her hips with clear annoyance on her face.

"Look," Harry began, "I can't really explain why, but I know that I can't make that book show up in here for you, alright? Please just drop it." Harry's eyes silently pleaded with Hermione to give it up. She looked annoyed and huffed but didn't say anything else.

"Anyway," Harry said quickly to change the subject, "I have some things I need to do real fast, but then I really need to get down to Hogsmeade. I'm gonna run up to my dorm to grab and prepare a few things. Um..." he paused and looked around the room. "If you want you can stay in here. Any book you want you can just _think it_ and it'll appear for you. It's brilliant."

Hermione's face brightened intensely with the sudden realization of just how useful the room had the potential to be. She bit her bottom lip as if she were torn between staying in the room and pursuing Harry with questions.

Her desire to learn won out and Harry was able to escape the Room of Requirement while Hermione stayed behind.

He raced up to his dorm room, but not because he had left anything there that he needed. Instead, what he needed was to modify the spells he had placed on the letters he intended to send to the Dursley's. Dumbledore had said he would be sending a letter to them as well, and Harry suspected that Dumbledore would be including some compulsion charms of his own. Harry had to work fast.

An hour later he was strolling down main street in Hogsmeade, walking away from the post office. He had sent off his letter, and was fairly certain it would serve its purpose. While standing in line in the Hogsmeade Post Office, Harry had gotten an idea that he would bring up with Tom later that afternoon when he went to visit.

The manor had powerful anti-owl wards around it. Tom didn't want anything to do with owl post because it left his defenses too easily exposed to 'idiotically stupid, simple attacks'. But he would still appreciate the ability to receive letters during his summer hols. Especially if he was going to keep Hermione and Ron convinced that he was safe and alive.

The idea was pretty simple. He would rent a post office box. He could do it at the Post Office in Diagon Alley, but perhaps some other random wizarding village would be a good alternative. Hogsmeade's Post Office offered a screening service for an extra fee. They would make sure that every letter received and placed inside your PO Box was free of all traces, curses, compulsion, etc. charms. Tom might still insist on additional precautions because he was Tom, and Tom was extremely paranoid, but Harry certainly couldn't fault him for that. Harry realized that he could also send Mixey to collect his post every few days so he wouldn't even have to go out into the open on his own.

It would be a great plan. Of course, Tom would have to approve of it first. Harry would also have to figure out what wizarding village's post to use. Perhaps Tom would have a suggestion or two...

– –

"France," Tom said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Huh?"

"If you're going to go to the trouble of using a post box to receive your mail, you should use one in another country."

"Er... why?"

"France has no laws against practicing underaged magic during summer holidays. Neither do Spain, Germany, or Bulgaria, for that matter, but I have some dealings in France anyway and will be sending Mixey there periodically, so she can make the trips there to acquire your mail at the same time."

"What difference does it make if France has no laws against practicing underaged magic?"

"You can claim that wherever it is that you're staying is in France. Therefore you are in a country where it is _legal_ for you to be practicing magic," Tom said in an exasperated tone.

Harry's eyes brightened and he grinned. "That's not bad," he said.

Tom rolled his eyes but the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

"I could also make it seem like I met one of the Beauxbatons students and that's how I ended up running off to France. It would be a perfect explanation, and a great diversion. Send Dumbledore off to France searching for me when I'm actually here."

Tom smirked. "Precisely. And a love-struck teen running off to another country is far less suspicious than a brooding, secretive teen, who vanishes without any explanation or link to his _friends_."

"Do you know of any good candidates? I mean, any magical villages in France that I could go get a post box from?"

"I'll arrange one for you. Mixey can go set it up," Tom said dismissively. "With the proper charms placed on the box, all owls sent to 'Harry Potter' will automatically be diverted to the post box. You won't even _have_ to give people your address, although on the last day of term it would probably be beneficial if you gave it to your two friends. The Granger girl and that Weasley fellow. Dumbledore is sure to question them before anyone else.

"Alright, I'll do that," Harry said smiling up at Tom. He shifted up from his position where he had been laying down on the chaise with his head in Tom's lap. Harry pulled himself up into a sitting position and leaned over, brushing his lips against Tom's. The other man grinned and returned the kiss, bring his hand up and fisting it into Harry's hair.

Harry's nerves around Tom had been decreasing drastically over the last week. Tom was forceful and impatient. He saw no point in dancing around things if he wanted them, so he had never hesitated to pull Harry into a kiss or an embrace when he wanted it. Because of this, Harry's own confidence had increased and he was rarely as cautious anymore. As long as they were already in established territory. When it came to going further than they had gone, it was always Tom who initiated.

Harry didn't mind. He wasn't in a rush, per se. His libido was certainly curious about going further, but part of him was also anxious. He was slowly realizing exactly what it was that two men did together, and he had to admit he was rather nervous about the prospect of things being done to his bum.

In an uncharacteristic display of concern for someone else, Tom had been taking things slowly with them. Harry had a feeling that the older wizard was occasionally frustrated with the pace, but he rarely allowed that frustration to shine through. More often than not they just snogged. Heavy snogging with grinding hips, grabbing hands, and heated kisses, but rarely anything further. In fact, Harry rarely saw Tom without his shirt anymore. The older wizard had taken to wearing one during his morning training again. He had said he needed to get things accomplished each morning and having Harry's hormones going crazy would only impede that.

Harry had still pouted and mumbled something defensively about being able to control himself. Tom had snorted and rolled his eyes.

Their kiss was growing more and more heated and Harry felt Tom's hands wrapping around him and forcefully grip his hips. Tom began to guide Harry onto his lap and Harry eagerly slipped into the position, straddling the other man. He moaned out as his pelvis brushed up against the straining proof of Tom's arousal, and Tom growled back into his mouth as he returned his hand to Harry's hair and fisted it.

Harry gasped out a loud groan at the painful tug. He was quickly growing to find the painful pull of his hair insanely arousing, which was probably good since Tom so clearly liked doing it. He ground against Tom again once more before his mouth sought out Toms again. Things were just getting really interesting when a little tinkling alarm sounded. The pair ignored it for a few minutes as they continued their heated snogging, but the alarm only got louder until Tom pulled back, panting and scowling in annoyance.

"What is that?" Harry gasped in obvious irritation.

"Severus is bringing Igor tonight. They will be here in twenty minutes," Tom growled.

"Karkaroff?" Harry asked in surprise. "He seemed absolutely _terrified_ of coming back!"

"He is," Tom said with a smirk. "And he should be. Especially with Barty around."

"I don't follow you."

"It was Igor who testified that Barty was one of my Death Eaters. Igor gave away numerous names in an attempt to get himself out of Azkaban."

"Oh, ouch. I see why he's so scared."

"Yes." Tom drawled. "However, despite his traitorous cowardices, he has managed to get himself into a very useful position."

"Control the schools and you control the future," Harry said, echoing something that Tom had said to him a number of times over the last few weeks.

"Exactly. And Durmstrang has a very impressive Dark Arts curriculum. The graduating classes would be perfect for recruiting new Death Eaters. Beauxbatons teaches magical theory for both light and dark in equal measures, but does not have any dark magic classes. Beauxbatons has always opted to teach only neutral magics and allow more specific light or dark affinity magic to be taught by private tutors over the summer holidays."

"While Hogwarts," Harry continued for him, "teaches neutral and light magic, while denouncing the dark arts as if it were evil."

Tom sneered. "Yesss."

"If it weren't so important that I stay at Hogwarts, I'd consider transferring," Harry grumbled and Tom chuckled. "Well that and I don't speak Bulgarian or French."

"Are you suggesting that your dark arts education from me isn't sufficient?" Tom asked in mock shock.

Harry laughed. "Hardly. I have trouble imagining anyone else in the world getting a better dark arts education than what I'm getting from you." Harry leaned in and placed his lips lightly against Toms and hummed in pleasure as Tom returned it.

The alarm started chirping again and they both groaned in annoyance.

"You had better leave, Harry. I am not yet ready to risk Igor knowing of your alliances."

Harry sighed and shifted off of Tom's lap.

"Alright."

– –


	27. Chapter 27

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

The day after Harry had been dragged out to the Quidditch field to learn the details of the last task, Sirius had written to him asking him what he'd found out. Harry had replied and relayed all of the details he had learned from Mr. Bagman, while leaving out the far more useful details he had gotten from Barty.

Since then, Sirius had been writing him every other day with advice on spells to try practicing and voicing his concerns about the various dangers and speculating on how the plot to get Harry killed, by getting him entered in the tournament, could be played out before the end of term. Sirius was clearly worried about Harry's safety and wellbeing. Harry knew it was entirely invalid and had no fears at all about the upcoming task, but he was still touched by Sirius's concerns.

Sure – if he hadn't gone to Tom all those months ago and joined the man, the third task would have been the event where the Dark Lord had originally intended to abduct Harry and perform his original resurrection ritual, but that plan was obviously out the window now since it would be blatantly counter-productive to their plans. Instead he had given Harry a hard look and told him in no uncertain terms that he would be disgusted if Harry did not win the tournament by an obscene point margin. Harry had laughed.

The first week Sirius sent a letter every two or tree days, but three weeks prior to the tournament the letters started coming daily. Even if they were nothing more than a few brief words of encouragement, a tip or two, or just a muddy paw-print; it was still clear that Sirius was doing everything he could think of to try and help and encourage Harry. Harry was touched.

Harry had continued to send care packages every week ever since the meeting with Sirius after the second task. He had started out by just having the Hogwart's kitchen house elves prepare as much non-perishable food as they could and then shrink it, package it up and send it off with one of the school owls. In more recent weeks, he'd been getting Mixey to prepare things for him since she could go out and buy things that were specifically intended as camp food to last and be easy to prepare.

Tom knew he was doing it but never really commented. Harry knew that Tom didn't exactly hold any _fond feelings_ for the ex-auror. Sirius _had_ been a real thorn in Voldemort's side during the last war. He was dedicated, talented, and creative. He was also, apparently, a very skilled dueler. He had apprehended quite a fair number of Death Eaters during the couple years he worked as an auror for the Ministry.

There were just under three weeks left till the final task and Harry was sitting in Tom's study while the older wizard scratched away at a parchment and periodically reference one of the large tomes he had stacked around his desk. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he was working on, but it seemed important. He had been working his way through a theoretical book Tom had told him to read on magical energy management and conservation during long drawn out battles. He had insisted that Harry wasted far too much energy during their duels and finally grumbled at him to read the damn book.

But he had started to go cross-eyed from all the reading and he was getting a headache. This probably was mostly due to the fact that the book was hand-written in tiny, cramped little letters.

He set it aside, sighed and started to dig through his bag. He pulled out a folder where he'd been keeping the letters from Sirius and started to slowly flip through them. He'd been feeling more and more troubled about his godfather lately. He really wasn't sure what to do about the whole situation.

He had come to terms with the fact that by joining Tom he had essentially abandoned all of the people who had looked after him and cared for him since he first entered the wizarding world, but he found he didn't have a lot of trouble with ditching most of them. Dumbledore was a manipulative bastard who had not only fucked over Harry, but a great many other people, so Harry had no moral problems with considering the older wizard his enemy now.

Ron was an ignorant, childish, and jealous prat. Harry considered him a occasionally-useful friendly acquaintance now more than anything, and that was only to keep up appearances. The more time passed, the more he realized he really didn't like Ron much at all. They really had next to nothing in common. The only shared interest that remained was Quidditch, and even his interest in that had waned considerably. He wasn't even sure he wanted to continuing playing next year. He probably wouldn't, but he knew it would draw a lot of curiosity and suspicion if he quit.

Hermione... Harry really wasn't sure about Hermione. She was bossy and annoying, and exceedingly nosy, but she was also clever, and she did care about him... He was still on the fence with Hermione. He had been ready to put her in the same category as Ron and consider his once-close friendship with her a lost cause, but his companion had been hinting in recent weeks that Hermione could be turned, if he made the effort.

Harry couldn't even fathom this, but the piece of Tom's soul never mislead Harry or gave him bad advice. He didn't exactly spend a lot of time with the soul piece anymore, but it was nice to have him in the back of Harry's mind during some of his classes. Short bouts of discussion kept Harry from going crazy from boredom in his classes. At one point, during a Charms class where Hermione was being especially annoying in her pestering of Ron, and Harry had decided that they were both a total wash, Harry's companion had said to not give up on her so quickly. He basically said to just keep chipping away at her faith in the current authority figures, and she would begin to see the logic in his views. Harry was skeptical, but he figured it couldn't hurt.

However, it was the issue of what to do about his relationship with Sirius that had been worrying him more than the others.

Harry sighed heavily and let the letters setting into his lap.

He felt Tom's fingers lace into his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling some of the tension leave him.

"What is it, Harry?" Tom asked in a soft tone. Harry smiled at it but then frowned lightly.

"I'm... well I'm worried about Sirius."

"Black? What about him?"

"He's still living in that cave outside Hogsmeade. It's just... crap. The only food he's getting is the stuff I'm sending him, but he's still practically starving out there. He sleeps on the ground, and is still living in the same shitty prison robes he escaped from Azkaban in. It's disgusting. Him being on the run like this just... it just sucks."

"I cannot even fathom why he's staying in a _cave_," Tom scoffed. "Surely he could have found something slightly more hospitable. He's the heir of the Black line. I don't see why he doesn't just go to one of his family's houses. I know there's at least one. From what intelligence I've gathered, I know that after Black was incarcerated Narcissa petitioned to gain control over the family's assets but lost, so as long as he lives your godfather still retains control of them. If he is declared dead, it will probably go to her then."

Harry frowned. "Narcissa? As in Narcissa _Malfoy_?"

"Yes, your godfather is her cousin."

Harry blinked, gaping slightly before he shook himself and refocused.

"Er, yeah. Anyway, I know that Sirius has stuck to that damn cave because he wanted to be near me. He's afraid that..." Harry barked out a humorless laugh, "he's afraid that you're after me. Or at least some old Death Eaters are. He wants to be nearby to help me out when the time comes. He's doing all of this suffering for me. I just really hate it. Especially since it's entirely unnecessary."

"We've discussed this before. If we hand over Wormtail and get your godfather freed then Black will expect you to come live with him."

"I _know." _Harry sighed heavily again. "I know it's idiotic, but I can't help but wish he could just stay _here._" Harry scoffed at how idiotic _that_ idea sounded.

Tom chuckled. "Yes, I imagine that would be difficult to sell. Sirius Black was about as against the Dark as he could get, despite his own magical affinity."

"Wait, what?"

"Even if he fought against it, Sirius Black was a dark wizard. A very borderline dark. Practically neutral, especially after a few years with the Aurors since he refused to use any of the dark spells he'd learned, but there is only so much one can do against that level of hereditary affinity influence."

"Okay, you've lost me. What are you on about?"

Tom sighed and set down his quill completely. "Sirius Black is a _Black_, Harry. They are one of the oldest, darkest magical family in Britain. If you were to trace their lines all the way back to when humans first mated with magical creatures, almost every creature they descend from was a daemon of some sort. Dark magic is in their blood. In addition to that, I know for a fact from Regulus that he and Sirius received tutoring in the Dark Arts from age seven until they got to Hogwarts, and then every summer afterwards. Sirius rebelled against his family and got himself sorted into Gryffindor – Regulus suspected it was to piss off their father. And if I recall correctly – which I always do – young Sirius ran away from home and ended up living with your father when he was fifteen or sixteen. So that's at least eight years of exposure to the Dark arts, combined with a hereditary propensity for Dark magic. There is no way that Sirius Black could have anything but a dark affinity, no matter how much he personally would have liked to go light, just to anger his family."

Harry was stunned. "Is that another reason why everyone was so quick to suspect him of betraying my parents?"

"Most likely. All it would take is an _affintatum reveleo_ and the natural dark affinity would be obvious. And since all _Dark Wizards_ are _Evil Wizards_," Tom sneered mockingly with a chuckle, "having a dark affinity would be more than enough for certain factions to instantly judge him guilty. Just one more level to the magical world's ignorance."

Harry sat there quietly for a long time afterwards and Tom finally picked his quill back up and resumed his work.

"Hey Tom?" Harry said, breaking the silence after a very long quiet.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think there's any chance I could turn him?"

"What are you talking about Harry?"

"Sirius. I mean... if I told him the truth about all that Dumbledore's done – all the manipulations and the lies; the fact that it was _Dumbledore's _doing that got my parents killed, and that left Sirius rotting in Azkaban, I wonder if... if _just maybe_ I could convince him to come to our side."

Tom set the quill down and leaned back in his chair.

"It's incredibly risky, Harry. I don't think you realize just how much Black despised the Dark. And I doubt that having been left to rot surrounded by dementors has helped his sanity any."

"But if I could do it, would you take him?" Harry asked turning a bit and looking up at Tom with hesitant hope burning in his eyes. Tom turned and looked down at Harry for a long time with a blank, calculating look.

"Perhaps..." he said, slowly. "Black was incredibly skilled. If nothing, it would be nice to guarantee he wouldn't be fighting _against me_. Of course, it's up for debate how much of that skill has stayed with him, and how much of it has been sucked away by the dementors."

"He spent most of his time in Azkaban in his animagus form. The dementors didn't have as much effect on his mind because he was a dog."

"Yes, yes, Harry. You've already told me this."

"Oh! I've got it! What do you think about a swap?" Harry said suddenly.

"What?"

"Pettigrew for Sirius. You're always saying that Wormtail is a worthless piece of trash. He's a miserable minion and he annoyed the shit out of you. It can be our bargaining chip to keep from having to reveal my loyalties straight out. I can go under Polyjuice or something and offer Sirius the information on Dumbledore, and then make the offer that we're willing to hand over Wormtail – with the last year of memories _obliviated_, of course – if he's willing to come to our side."

"Hmm..." Tom hummed slowly and Harry could see the wheels turning behind his thoughtful eyes. He was planning and Harry grinned widely.

"The only people left who Black is loyal to are you, Dumbledore, and Remus Lupin – correct?"

"Right."

"If we can destroy his loyalties in Dumbledore, that only leaves you and the werewolf. If he shows any indication that he could be swayed at that point you could reveal your loyalties to him as well. It is possible that at _that_ point, he could be fully convinced. At _that_ point, it would also be much easier to sway the werewolf. As a Dark Creature he feels an instinctive pull towards me. The wolf wants to be loyal to the Dark Lord, it is the man who fights it. If we could turn both of them..."

"Yes! Yes!" Harry said excitedly.

"It has potential, Harry, but neither of them have the stomach for what we do. They have both spent their lives denying the darkness within them. Getting them to accept it will not be an easy task."

"I want to try. They're the closest thing I have to family. If there is a chance that I can save them from Dumbledore's schemes and agendas then I have to try."

"Lupin would be a useful resource. A public face to lycanthropy that is non-threatening. Having a werewolf such as him working towards my cause would help build support for the cause of Dark creatures, which would in turn bring more of them to my side..."

"Lupin will probably be harder, but if I can get Sirius to join, I'm sure I can get Lupin too." Harry said with determination.

Tom took on that calculating look again for a moment before a wicked grin began to spread across his lips making Harry suddenly wish he were kissing them.

"And best of all, Dumbledore would likely recruit the both of them when he starts up his little Order of the Phoenix again. They were both members during the last war... it would be good having additional spies inside Dumbledore's midst."

"Yes!" Harry agreed enthusiastically.

"This idea has legitimate merit, but we must tread carefully. Gaining either's allegiances will be tricky and we cannot risk exposing you until we are sure we can convince them, or gain an unbreakable vow of their secrecy."

Harry agreed and the pair began to brainstorm on ideas. After about twenty minutes of discussion Tom stood to his feet and beckoned Harry to follow him as he led the way down to his lab in the basement.

As they passed the door that led towards the hall of cells Harry couldn't help but wonder if Barty Crouch Sr. was still down there or if Tom had finally just killed the man. Tom disappeared inside the lab and Harry quickly hurried after him.

Inside, Tom was standing beside the large work table in the center of the room. All of the potion brewing tools and supplies were shoved to the side or put away. In the center of the table was a stack of parchment that appeared to have a lot of arithmantic equations scribbled across them in Tom's elegant scrawl, and a few other sheets with various rune diagrams.

"What is all this?" Harry asked as he looked down at the complex sheet of numbers and symbols on the table beside him.

"I've been crafting an object. I've been layering some rather complex bits of magic into it and it's taken some work to get all the magic to cooperate together. It's almost done, actually," Tom said absently as he moved aside several things and pulled a very small box forward.

"Crafting something? You mean, like that orb that you had me use on Snape?"

"Not exactly, no. This," he paused and held open the box to show it to Harry. Inside was a silver ring with a thick masculine band and a perfectly spherical green gem set into it. "is for you."

Harry blinked at it in confused shock. "What?"

"As I said, it's not done yet, but when it is, you can key in a very specific set of glamors. _Powerful_ glamors. Not just those worthless childish ones that they teach you in school. It will remember one specific set of glamors, although I'm considering crafting another one that can hold multiple appearances that a person could switch between. For now, this will do. In addition to putting up the fake appearance, you can key certain people into the ring. Anyone that you key into it will see past the glamors and see you for your true appearance."

"Oh! Oh, wow..." Harry said, stunned.

"I've been working on it for you to use during your summer stay here in the manor. By then, more and more of my Death Eaters will be frequenting this place and I am not yet willing to reveal your identity to most of them. Those who will be aware will be selected individually. This will allow you to wander the manor without having to worry about being seen by the wrong person. You will even be able to attend the meetings."

"That's incredible," Harry said with awe in his voice as he looked down at the ring in the box.

"Once I am finished with implementing the last of the spellwork we can set the appearance you wish to use for the glamor. It will also be necessary for you to come up with an alias. There was that alias you were using earlier in the year... Notechus Noir, was it?"

"Oh, yeah... hmm... Well, yes, that is what I used, but I don't think I'll stick with it for this. Too many things were mailed to _Hogwarts_ under that name. I'll come up with something new."

"That is probably wise."

They discussed their plans for a short while longer before it was time for Harry to head back to Hogwarts.

– –

A few more days passed and the populace of the school was slowly growing more and more anxious for the coming task. Exams were also a week away, which was also causing a good amount of tension and anxiety among the students.

Harry was excused from exams because of the tournament but he still studied with the others. He wasn't even convinced he would take advantage of the option to skip out on his tests. He'd come a tremendous way as far as his academics were concerned and he was curious to see if he could manage 'Outstanding's on all of his tests.

That day during a study session that a very insistent Hermione had dragged Ron to, and that Harry had willingly joined, Ron remarked on Harry's willingness to take exams and how utterly insane he thought Harry was because of it.

"If there was any doubt in my mind before, I'm convinced now," Ron started as he shut his transfiguration textbook. "You are completely _mental,"_ he said to Harry with absolute conviction.

"Why's that?" Harry asked disinterestedly without looking up from his own book and parchment while he continued to revise his notes.

"Why? Because you've basically got a _free pass!_ I mean, if nothing else good came from you getting forced into this tournament, at least you get out of taking your exams and yet you're still studying! You're mental!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded him with a mild scowl.

"What! I'm serious! It's insane!"

"I personally think it's fantastic that Harry's taking his studies seriously this year! You could really benefit to learn from his example!"

"Oh, not this again!" Ron groaned.

"Besides, Ron," Ginny said coming up from behind them and plopping down on the couch beside Hermione, "getting out of exams is hardly the best thing that will come out of Harry being in the Triwizard Tournament. With the lead Harry already has, I'd be willing to bet money that he's going to win. Then he gets the prize money too."

Ron groaned. "Ugh. Don't remind me about the money."

Harry kept his head down, ignoring them, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"What _are_ you going to do with the money, Harry?" Ginny asked in an excited conspiratorial whisper. "I can only imagine what I would do if I came into that much money! It would be amazing." She gave a slightly sad sigh and leaned back into the couch.

Harry just made a non committal mumble and shrugged. The truth was that Harry really wasn't sure _what_ he was going to do with the money. He certainly didn't _need_ the money. The correspondences he'd had with Gringotts in recent months made him more and more aware of just how loaded he was. His trust vault was overflowing with gold, and when he reached his magical maturity he would gain access to the ancient Potter family vault which was considerably larger. He had offered the winnings to Tom, since it was Tom's doings that got him into the tournament in the first place, but the man had scoffed and told Harry that it was his money and he should do with it what _he_ wanted. And that 1,000 Galleons was hardly a drop in the water of his funds.

Harry had again insisted, suggesting that it could go towards the war effort but Tom had told him that the considerably sizable sum of money that had been in Tom's vault during his 'absence' had been gaining interest over the years and was more than enough to fund his war for a while. He was also sure that he would have no trouble getting additional financial support from several of his followers.

So again, Harry was left wondering what to do with the Tri-Wizard tournament prize money.

The next morning, Harry was sneaking through the common room under his invisibility cloak – he had just come back from his morning workout, which had degenerated into a very heavy snogging session, and Harry had yet to check himself over for the marks that Tom always left, so he opted to stay under the cloak until he could get up to the 4th years bathroom, when he saw the Weasley twins huddled in a corner over a stack of parchment.

With exams coming up it wasn't odd to find people studying, but it _was_ odd to come across the Weasley twins studying – especially so early in the morning. It seemed far more likely that they would be planning some epic end-of-year prank than actually studying. If that was the case, Harry would prefer to be forewarned so he could try and dodge it.

Harry crept over to the pair silently and stood just to the side to listen in.

"We're going to need some serious capitol if we're really going to do this," Fred... or maybe George, said with a sigh.

"I know my dear brother. If only Ludo Bagman hadn't renegged on our World Cup bets! We'd have enough!"

"We can still get in some betting in the tournament though."

"Harry's a shoe-in to win."

"He's already in the lead and Ron says he's practically turned into a defense genius."

"True, true... but we still need starting capitol for the bets."

"And we've hardly made up from our losses to Ludo."

Again they sighed, this time simultaneously.

"What do you guys need money for?" Harry said as he pulled the hood of his cloak down and exposing only a floating head and neck.

They both jumped and turned in their seats to look at Harry with wide startled eyes.

"Harry!" they both said.

"What are you doing up so early?" one of them asked.

"And sneaking around in your cloak, no less!"

"Are you up to something you shouldn't be?" they were both smirking at him inquisitively.

Harry chuckled and simply shrugged – which probably didn't come through very well considering that he was mostly invisible.

"That's for me to know and for me to know," Harry said smirking. "So what's your deal? What do you two need money for?"

The twins looked at each other doing that silent communication thing that the pair seemed to do before nodding silently and turning back to Harry.

"You absolutely can't tell mum," one twin said sternly.

"Or Ron. He's absolutely worthless at keeping secrets."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'm _much better_ at keeping secrets."

They snorted. "So we've heard," they said in sync.

"Well?" Harry persisted.

"When we graduate, we're going to start our own joke shop," one of them said.

"We've got a bunch of inventions already down,"

"And a lot more already planned and in the works."

"But we need to do some research and development capitol before we can really get started."

"And even after we've got everything ready, we'll still need a down payment for a shop."

"Or at least rent," they finished, shrugging.

"Hmm..." Harry hummed slowly, giving the pair a long hard look. It certainly wouldn't hurt to have the twins indebted to him. Weasley's were a strictly light family, but Harry got the feeling that the twins were far from having a Light magical affinity. They weren't dark, but they weren't afraid to use questionable magic. And while it was true that they didn't exactly perform all that well on homework and exams, Harry knew they were both brilliant, not to mention incredibly inventive and creative. Would there ever be any chance of him making use of their skills in the coming war, or would that be a pipe dream? Even if it was unlikely, getting them financially indebted to him would be a good first step.

"I can do it," Harry said with a dismissive nonchalance.

The twins blinked at him with obvious confusion.

"Do what?" one of them finally asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can front you guys the money. Hell, if I win this stupid tournament you can have the winnings. A thousand galleons should help get things started, right? In case you guys didn't realize it, I'm the last Potter and have apparently inherited a mountain of gold, and a bunch of property. I'm loaded. I certainly don't need the prize money from the tournament."

"Are you joking!" The other one choked out, gaping at him.

"No that's your job. You're the pranksters, remember?"

"You would really give us your winnings!"

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"We'll pay you back," one of them said with a determined nod and the other one assumed the same determined face and nodded his agreement.

Harry waved it off, "Don't bother. Maybe I can be a silent partner and you guys can give me free merchandise."

The twins were still stunned but finally they looked at each other for a minute. They turned back to Harry, both looking uncharacteristically serious.

"We won't forget this Harry. And we'll find a way to make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it. Just make sure you succeed at it. Come up with some brilliant inventions and once you get the actual shop started, make sure it doesn't flop."

"We won't let you down, Harry!"

"Yeah, we'll make sure you don't regret your investment."

"Do you need any help preparing for the last task?"

"You're already in the lead, but that's no guarantee that you'll win."

"We'll do anything you need!"

"Help in any way!"

Harry laughed. "Don't worry guys. Besides, even if I don't win – which I will – I'll still give you guys the front money. But like I said – don't worry. I'm _going to win._" He smirked wickedly and the twins shared a look before grinning back.

They spoke for another minute or two before Harry turned to head up the stairs, just as he reached the bottom of the stairs one of the twins called after he and he turned back to face them.

"Yeah?"

"Is that a hickey we see?" Fred and George asked in sync with a wicked salacious grin on each identical face.

Harry's face went red and a moment later he was scowling back playfully. The twins burst out laughing and Harry shook his head at them before jogging up the stairs.

– –

One week before the task there was an article in the Prophet that caught Harry's attention. Apparently the wizarding world had finally woken up and realized that Mr. Crouch was missing. According to the Prophet his assistant – who just so happened to be Percy Weasley – had been convinced that he had been receiving instructions from Crouch Sr. on a weekly basis, going so far as to insist that he would certainly recognize his own boss's handwriting. Harry found this exceedingly funny since he knew that half of the letters had been sent from Barty, and the other half from Tom himself. They had been coming from two different people, depending on which one of them had had the time to write them, and Percy hadn't even realized.

A thorough search had finally been conducted and people realized that absolutely _no one_ had any idea where Bartemius Crouch Sr. was. Percy had been put under a magnifying glass since then, and had been heavily questioned to determine if he really was an ignorant bystander, or if he had perhaps had something to do with the man's disappearance. Because of this, he would not be allowed to sit in as judge in Crouch's place for the final task like he had for the second task. Instead the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge would be taking that honor.

When Harry read this, he couldn't help but grin. He'd been hoping for an opportunity to speak with the Minister for Magic again. The last time had been before his third year after he accidentally 'blew-up' his Aunt Marge, and he had been too stupid and naïve to understand what an opportunity it was to gain such a powerful ally at the time.

Tom was positive that Fudge felt extremely threatened by Dumbledore. Fudge had been in office for a very long time, by this point – having gotten elected only three years after the unfortunate events that destroyed Tom's original body. There wasn't a term limit for the Minister for Magic, but after having been in the job for as long as he had, the public could easily get bored with him and want something new – or at least something different.

From his research and the intelligence that he'd collected so far, Tom was convinced that Fudge believed that Dumbledore was after his position. Harry had asked Tom if he thought it was true but Tom didn't think so. He knew that Dumbledore would never give up his position as headmaster of Hogwarts, and that would be necessary if he were to take on the job of Minister.

Still, whether the fear was founded or not, it was still there. Fudge thought of Dumbledore as an adversary, and if Harry could demonstrate to the Minister that he was on _his side_, it could be extremely beneficial to him.

– –


	28. Chapter 28

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Sirius Black was extremely antsy. He just couldn't sit still. His godson would be partaking in a deadly and dangerous task in just a few days time and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He couldn't even _be there_ when the damn thing happened. The minister for magic would be there, not to mention 'Mad Eye' Moody and his damned magical eye. Even if Sirius showed up in his animagus form, Moody's damn eye could probably spot him, and then everything would be thrown to the shitter.

He was returning from another trip down into Hogsmeade Village, playing his role as the lovable stray, Snuffles. He came upon the entrance to the cave and transformed back into his human form. He'd been doing this for months now and perhaps he'd gotten complacent, or perhaps his mind was just too distracted by his worries about Harry; whatever the reason, Sirius Black was caught completely off guard when he came face-to-face with a man, leaning against the rock wall beside the entrance to the cave.

He froze for a stunned moment before he had his stolen wand drawn and aimed at the unidentified man's chest. The man in question, who looked to be around twenty years old and had dish-water blond hair tied back into a loose low ponytail and had bright blue eyes, did not actually respond to suddenly having a wand drawn on him. Instead he just grinned and slowly rose his hands to about mid-chest, with his palms out showing that he was unarmed.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here!" Sirius demanded as his eyes began to dart around checking for any signs of an ambush or aurors.

"Don't worry, I'm alone," the man said calmly.

Sirius could detect a trace of amusement in his voice and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the young man. "That didn't answer either of my questions."

The blond man grinned wider. "No, I suppose it didn't. My name isn't really all that important, so I'll skip that one and move along to the second instead. What I'm doing here, Mr. Black, is to provide you with some information, and make an offer."

Sirius froze. Whoever this guy was, he knew who Sirius was. _How the hell did he find me!_

"I mean you absolutely no harm, and if, in the end, you are not interested at all in what I have to offer you, I will leave and you will never hear from me again. I won't tell the aurors or call out dementors or anything of the sort. I was only sent here to deliver a message."

"Sent by who?" Sirius asked.

"We'll get to that," the man said with a smirk.

"And I'm supposed to just _trust_ what you're saying?"

"How about this? I'll make an oath. Swear on my magic. Would that help you feel better?"

Sirius's eyes widened minutely in surprise. Only an idiot would throw out a magical oath carelessly. Magical oaths were serious business.

"Alright, but draw your wand slowly."

The young man nodded his head and snapped his wrist lightly causing a yellow-golden wand to shoot out of a hidden holster and into his hand. Sirius tensed at the sight of it but the man kept his movements slow and obvious. He held his wand in a loose grip, pointing it at his chest and spoke clearly.

"I swear on my magic that I have no ill intentions towards Sirius Black, and have no intention of harming him while I am here today. I do not have, nor will I call in reinforcements, and I swear that I have not, and will not report his location to any branch of the Ministry. I also swear that the information that I am here to deliver to him is, to my knowledge, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So mote it be." A golden light swirled out of the wand and then around the man causing him to glow for a moment before it faded.

Sirius was stunned, but as he fully took in the words, he did feel himself relax, even if only minutely. If the young man standing before him went against his word in any way, he would be left as nothing more than a squib.

"Satisfied?" the man asked and Sirius was pulled out of his shock.

"Alright," Sirius nodded slowly. "I'm listening. So what do you want?"

"I've got quite a bit to say and some things to show you. Can we, perhaps, go into the cave?"

Sirius's eyes narrowed but he nodded his head. He led the man into the cave, and they were instantly greeted by Buckbeak the hippogriff. The man stood a few feet from the large half-horse, half-eagle creature and bowed low. Buckbeak eyed the man for a long moment before it lowered his head and bowed back. The man grinned and walked forward to lightly brush the creatures head before turning back to Sirius who had watched the entire thing with a significant air of surprise.

"Impressive creature. He got a name?" the man asked as he walked to the opposite side of the cave and pulled a small mokeskin pouch from inside his black robes. He tapped it with his wand and it tripled in size.

"His name is... Witherwings," Sirius said.

The man looked up at Sirius with a raised eyebrow and chuckled. "Sure it is." He pulled the opening to the bag open wide and pulled out a large heavy bowl with runes engraved all around it. Sirius's eyes widened again.

"Is that a pensieve?"

The man looked up and grinned as he pulled out two small crystal phials filled with the silvery liquid that he recognized as memories.

"That is correct, Mr. Black. This _is_ a pensieve."

"Those are pretty hard to come by," Sirius said slowly. "Damn expensive and rare."

"That they are," the man confirmed. "I've _borrowed_ this one actually, and have to make sure it gets back undamaged. However what I have to tell you is difficult to believe, and I doubted you would even consider believing any of it without some sort of evidence."

"Okay..." Sirius said slowly as he came to stand beside the man as he conjured a table and two chairs with a few wordless flicks of his wand. Sirius had to admit he was impressed. It was one thing to transfigure a table and chairs _from_ something, but conjuring from nothing was a considerably more difficult thing to achieve. Chances were that the pieces of furniture would dissolve in a couple hours though.

The man placed the pensieve on the center of the table and set the two phials beside it as he sat down in one of the chairs. Sirius followed suit and watched the man suspiciously.

"All I ask is that you keep an open mind and realize that I am not trying to deceive you. I swore an oath to you that what I'm telling you is true to the best of my knowledge and I meant it," the man started and Sirius nodded.

"You are Sirius Black, once the best mate and best man of James Potter, and the man that he and his wife Lily named as the godfather of their son, Harry James Potter," the man began. "This being the case, I am assuming that James Potter at least _mentioned_ to you that there was a prophecy made about Harry Potter...?" the man trailed off as a question.

Sirius stiffened and his eyes went wide. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The man smirked. "I'm sure you don't. During Lily's third trimester Albus Dumbledore went to the Potters and informed them that they were likely the target of Voldemort because a prophecy had been made that targeted their son. He had been there when the prophecy was first made, and witnessed the entire thing. However another person had been spying on he and the seer and had also overheard _part_ of the prophecy. This individual happened to be a marked Death Eater and took the partial prophecy to Voldemort. Dumbledore told the entire prophecy to the Potters, but I suspect he told them not to tell anyone else, so I would assume that you are unaware of the exact wording, correct?"

Sirius floundered, unsure what was safe to say. He really _didn't _know what the prophecy said, and this guy clearly already knew about it's existence...

"No, I don't," he admitted finally. "I have no idea what it says."

"I do. I have it right here. Want to see?" he said as he picked up one of the phials and swirled it a little between his fingers.

Sirius felt his heart thrumming loudly in his chest and slowly nodded his head. The man uncorked the phial and slowly poured the silvery liquid out into the bowl in front of them.

"Have you used a pensieve before?" the man asked and Sirius nodded. A moment later they were both 'descending' into it together. They landed suddenly in the center of the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade. Sirius blinked for a moment, catching his bearings and looking at the room around him. The Hog's Head was a fairly shady place during the first war. People had been unaware at the time that the pub was actually owned by Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, and that the headmaster of Hogwarts had taken advantage of its seedier clientele to spy on Darker wizards. Sirius also knew that Dumbledore had used the pub a few times to leak information to the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

"The Hog's Head?" Sirius asked, in surprise.

"Yes, funny thing that, huh?" the other man said. Do you know what Dumbledore was here to do?"

"No," Sirius said shaking his head.

The other man nodded his head towards the door as it opened and Sybil Trelawney walked in, then loudly announced to the barkeep that she was there to see Dumbledore for a very important interview. She also made it a point to mention her great grandmother, who even Sirius recognized as a well renowned Seer.

The barkeep lead her up the stairs and Sirius and the blond man followed them up. Dumbledore was already in the room waiting and the two went through some standard greetings and began to commence the interview.

"He's conducting a _job interview!_" Sirius asked incredulously. "In the Hog's Head?"

The blond man snorted. The two watched with mild disinterest as the 'interview' continued for a few minutes. "You were an auror," the blond began, stating it rather than asking a question, "so were you trained to spot anomalies in memories?"

"Of course," Sirius said.

"Is there anything... _off_ about this memory? It came from Trelawney, by the way. Just so you know the source."

"Yes, I figured it was her," Sirius said distractedly as he seemed to concentrate on the illusion around them. His brow puckered and he frowned for a moment before his eyes went wide with realization. "She's under the _imperius_!"

The blond smiled and nodded his head. "I noticed that as well. Funny thing that. If you dig into the memory with your magic you can feel the spots where her exact words have been manipulated. The important part is about to come up, so pay attention here."

A moment later Trelawney's eyes glazed over and her voice changed as she clearly entered a trance and began to recite the prophecy. Sirius watched intently. Half way through they heard the scuffle in the wall outside the room and Sirius was distracted by it for a moment before he refocused on Trelawney. Once she finished speaking there was a knock on the door and Aberforth appeared holding Snape by the collar and began to growl about having found him in the hall eavesdropping by the door.

Sirius looked like he was about to explode in anger when the blond man froze the memory.

"We'll get back to the fact that Severus Snape was the spy who gave Voldemort the partial prophecy later. Lets go back to the actual prophecy," he said as the images before them suddenly reversed and then replayed at the start of the actual prophecy. He paused it again when the disturbance first sounded in the hall.

"This is as far as Voldemort heard," he said turning to Sirius. _"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... _With that much of the prophecy Voldemort deduced that there were two possible candidates for the identity of the one who would have the 'power to vanquish' him. One was the Potters, the other couple was the Longbottoms. Both Lily and Alice were pregnant and due at the end of July – the seventh month. Both couples had openly opposed Voldemort and had faced against him and survived, on three separate occasions."

"Frank and Alice..." Sirius breathed in a quiet voice.

"Correct. The thing that eventually separated Harry Potter from Neville Longbottom was that Neville was born on the 30th while Harry was on the 31st. So it was the Potters that Voldemort decided to focus his efforts on, and thus, the Potters went into hiding under the Fidelius."

Sirius refocused on the man with suspicious eyes. "You are extremely well informed," he said in a low voice.

"I am. And there's more. First, we need to ask ourselves, what could be behind the fact that Sybil Trelawney was clearly under the _Imperius_ curse while making that prophecy."

Sirius's eyes darkened and he frowned. "The prophecy was fake."

"And what's more, someone wanted it to be overheard by the _wrong sort_. The only reason to have that conversation in a place like the Hog's Head is if you _want_ someone to overhear it. Look here," the man said pointing to Dumbledore. The memory was still frozen at the moment that the scuffle had begun out in the hall. "Does he look pleased?"

Sirius looked at Dumbledore's aged face and gave a small start of surprise as the anger in his eyes as he glanced at the door. It wasn't the annoyance at being disturbed, it was far deeper than that.

"It looks to me like _someone_ wasn't very pleased that their eavesdropper got interrupted," the blond man mused with a hard look at Dumbledore.

Sirius's brow furrowed for a moment before realization crossed his face. "You think Dumbledore set this up?" he gasped.

"Dumbledore _wanted_ that prophecy to get to Voldemort. _Dumbledore_ put Sybil Trelawney under the _Imperios_ curse," the man said and there was no amusement in his face or voice.

"That's absurd!" Sirius shouted angrily.

"I ask that you reserve judgment. I have one more memory to show you. Come on."

And with that the memory dissolved and the two of them were back in their seats at the conjured table in the cave. The blond man used his wand to siphon the memory out of the basin and back into the phial before uncorking the other one and pouring it in.

They entered the memory to find themselves in Albus Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts and Sybil Trelawney sitting in the chair opposite the Headmaster's desk.

"This is the previous day," the blond man said as he came to stand at the end of the desk and Sirius came to stand beside him.

"The previous day?" Sirius echoed.

"Correct. _This_ is the date that Sybil Trelawney and Albus Dumbledore originally had scheduled time for an interview. In Sybil's _modified_ memories, she recalled getting an owl an hour before the interview from Dumbledore telling her that something had come up and asking to reschedule it for the next day down in the pub. _This_ memory was a bit harder to find, but it was still there. Dumbledore was afraid that if he mangled her memory too much it would have an affect on her Seer's sight."

Sirius gaped at the blond man disbelievingly but his attention was drawn back to the memory as Sybil's voice suddenly shifted to a lower, gravely tone.

_The only one with the power to match the Dark Lord approaches..._

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._

_The Dark Lord will come for him and mark him as his equal._

_He will have two paths from which to chose. From one path, the End will fall upon us all. From the other, we shall be saved._

_The Dark Lord and his Equal will either rule together, or destroy each other._

_For either to die, it must be at the hand of the other for neither can die while the other survives..._

The blond man stopped the memory and stood there silently as Sirius stood there dumbfounded.

"Can you play it again," Sirius whispered.

The other man nodded and the memory resumed from the beginning of the prophecy, playing through once more.

A thick silence spread through the room for a few long minutes afterwards.

"If you examine the magical signature of the memory you can see that it hasn't been tampered with and she is not under the _Imperius_ here,"the blond said.

Sirius nodded his head slowly, as if numb. "Yes... I noticed," he said hoarsely.

"Do you understand what it means?"

"According to this prophecy, the only way for Voldemort to really _die_ is if he and Harry kill each other..." Sirius said slowly. "Harry has to _die_..."

The man nodded. "It would appear that Dumbledore either misinterpreted it in the beginning, or he simply hoped that having Voldemort attack the child would be sufficient to destroy the Dark Lord. Dumbledore modified Trelawney's memories and then used the _Imperius_ curse to control her and make her reenact the interview and prophecy in a more public setting – only with a modified prophecy that would make the Dark Lord target the child and try to kill him; thus destroying himself. He used Trelawney, Snape, and the Potters in a scheme to destroy Voldemort without having to actually lift a finger himself. They were all expendable pawns in his plans for the _greater good_," the man sneered

Sirius seemed to snap out of his stunned silence and turned to look at the man with a horrified expression.

"No!" he hissed.

"Yes!" the man hissed right back. "And when Harry Potter was alive afterwards, and marked on his forehead Dumbledore realized that instead of finishing the prophecy he had only set it in motion. He knew then that Voldemort wasn't _really dead_ and that the scarred child left behind would be left with two paths he could choose from. On one hand, Harry Potter could choose to be a martyr for the Light and destroy the Dark Lord by sacrificing his own life. On the other hand he could go dark and join the Dark Lord, making him unstoppable. Dumbledore, being the master manipulator that he is, decided that he would need to try and control the child to make sure he would _make the right choice,"_ again the man sneered the last few lines with disgust.

"However, Dumbledore also knew that James Potter undoubtedly would have told you about the fake prophecy since you were the child's godfather. You would know that Harry had been foretold to be the one who would destroy Voldemort and you would raise him appropriately. With you Harry could have had a happy childhood with people who loved him. He would know what it was like to have _joy_ in his life, and he would want to live. You would also train him to fight. You would have taught him advanced magic and raised him to be a proper marauder," the man smirked at Sirius's surprised expression.

"Dumbledore would have _no_ control over him if he were to be raised by _you_. Dumbledore didn't need a fighter, he needed a weapon who would die by Voldemort's hands. He didn't need someone strong willed and happy, he needed someone broken and malleable. Someone that he could sculpt into his perfect _weapon._ The perfect _martyr._ Harry Potter's childhood was beyond miserable. He was beaten and starved by people who hated him and treated him no better than the Malfoy's treat their house elves. Then he was _rescued _by Rubeus Hagrid, who was sent by Albus Dumbledore personally. Hagrid, who did nothing but proclaim what a great man Dumbledore is. Dumbledore needed to be Harry's savior. His mentor and the person that Harry looked up to and confided in. The only way that this would all work is if Dumbledore maintained control over Harry's living arrangement.

"Fortunately for him, the rest of the world was under the impression that you had been the Potter's secret keeper. Are you aware who it was who cast the Fidelius around the Potter's house?"

Sirius frowned and shook his head. "I wasn't there. Peter was the only other one there because he was the secret keeper."

"Neither James nor Lily cast the actual spell. Neither had done it before and they didn't trust themselves to the task. They were afraid it wouldn't be cast properly or be done strong enough, so Dumbledore volunteered to cast it for them."

Sirius's face went white and he suddenly looked ill.

"Obviously, since he was there, and he _cast_ the spell, he knew perfectly well who the secret keeper was," the blond finished airily.

"How do you know this?" Sirius whispered hoarsely.

"Peter told me."

Sirius's face went from horror stuck to fury in point-five seconds.

"WHAT! When! You've seen that rat bastard? Where?"

The man chuckled lightly and held up a hand. "We'll be getting to that in a moment actually. Shall we exit the memory?"

Sirius nodded his head jerkily, still clearly upset and a moment later the images around them were dissolving away and they were back sitting in the cave.

The man used his wand to siphon the memory back into the phial and corked it before slipping them back into the bag, followed by the pensieve. He shrunk it down and slipped it back into the inner pocket of his robes.

"As you can see, I still have my magic, so I have not lied to you," he said easily as he settled back into the chair and crossed one leg over the other knee.

Sirius blinked, seemingly confused for a moment before he frowned and nodded his head.

"Dumbledore _knew _that you were not the one who betrayed the Potters. I have no proof, but I would be willing to bet that he _knew_ that Pettigrew was already a marked Death Eater. I would even be willing to bet that it was _he_ that originally suggested Peter to James as an alternative to you as the secret keeper. Dumbledore _wanted_ Voldemort to get to Harry, after all."

"No..." Sirius said in a weak whisper as he shook his head.

"Denial is more than a river in Egypt, Mr. Black," the man smirked, but Sirius saw no humor in the current situation. The man waited a moment and then spoke again. "He threw you away. You were in his way. You were no longer useful or necessary to his plans, so he considered you expendable – everyone is always expendable if it's for the _greater good._ He always had the power and the knowledge to get you free, but he let you rot away in Azkaban because as long as you were there, he had control over Harry Potter's life. Control over his _weapon._"

"No... no, I... I can't believe it," Sirius said again, shaking his head furiously from side to side as his face contorted in anger and despair.

"Dumbledore is not the man that everyone believes him to be. He puts on this grandfatherly facade; the barmy, slightly-senile, but brilliant old wizard that is kind and loving and that you can always trust to _do the right thing_," he said sarcastically and then snorted. "It's all fake. It's _a lie_. He puts up a fake persona to put people off their guard. He's a lying manipulative, deceitful old bastard, and you _can not trust him. _Least of all, with Harry Potter's safety. Dumbledore doesn't want to save Harry, he wants him dead. Why the hell has Harry Potter come face to face with almost certain death in every year he's been at Hogwarts? Ask yourself how many of those things could have been stopped by Albus Dumbledore, and then ask yourself why he didn't stop them?"

Sirius was still shaking his head, but he knew he couldn't deny the truth in the other man's words. He couldn't deny what he had seen in the pensieve. He still didn't know what to think of that prophecy. The _real_ one.

"You said you spoke to Peter," Sirius said after a moment, latching on to a distracting diversion for a moment.

"Yes. I suppose its a good time to transition into the proposition portion of our little talk. Where to start... well, I suppose the direct approach is best. I was sent here by the Dark Lord."

Sirius was suddenly sitting ramrod straight, and at full attention. His mouth was open to say something, but Sirius found himself so stunned by the statement that he didn't know what to say.

"What!" he finally gasped, hoarsely.

"The Dark Lord sent me. He's returned to a body and is already full strength again. Has been for some time now. He's building things back up quietly before going public. He's given me permission to offer you Wormtail. Peter is unaware of this, of course, but who gives a damn what _he_ wants, hmm?" the man chuckled and grinned as he clasped his hands on the knee that was folded over the other leg.

Sirius's jaw floundered for a moment. "Offer me Wormtail? What do you mean? In exchange for what?"

"Even trade. You get to take him and do whatever the hell you want with him – be it torture and kill, or hand him over to the Ministry and get yourself cleared – and in exchange, you join the Dark Lord and take Pettigrew's place."

"NEVER!" Sirius hissed as he stood to his feet.

"Why?" blond asked calmly without so much as flinching at Sirius's outburst.

"Because he's a murdering bastard!"

"And Dumbledore _isn't?"_

"He killed James and Lily!"

"_Dumbledore_ set them up. Voldemort never would have personally targeted and gone after them if Dumbledore hadn't concocted the fake prophecy and intentionally leaked it to one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters."

"He's a bigoted bastard. He wants to wipe out all the muggleborns and kill off all the muggles!"

"No he doesn't," the man said simply.

Sirius scoffed. "Oh really?"

"Still under my oath here," the man reminded Sirius with a pointed look. "The Dark Lord doesn't give a damn about the muggleborns so long as they can keep a damn secret and follow the rules, and he has no intention of allowing his Death Eaters to resume slaughtering muggles this time around. The muggles have progressed a long way and their news travels fast now. Attacks upon the muggles would risk our exposure which is, quite literally, the last thing he wants. He wants to gain control over magical Britain and demolish and rebuild the governing system. It is corrupt and run by incompetent fools."

Sirius stared at him for a long minute, still angry and confused. He shook his head slowly and spoke. "I would never betray everyone like that. I would _never_ betray Harry." He paused and gave the blond man a hard glare. "That's why you want me, isn't it? To get to Harry. Voldemort wants to get Harry on his side and you figure that you can do that if you get me to join?" he scoffed and stuck his nose in the air, insulted.

"No. Believe it or not, that is _not_ why I am making you this offer. We have absolutely no intention to try and use you to get Harry Potter to join the Dark Lord. Oh, and _still_ under oath, here," he added, smirking as he waved his wand and conjured a wordless _lumos_ to illuminate the cave. The sun was setting and it was growing a bit dim but Sirius knew that the real point was to demonstrate that the man still had his magic.

Sirius looked back disbelievingly. "Why, then?"

"There are a number of reasons. The Dark Lord is willing to take you in Pettigrew's stead because he knows you'd be a considerably better asset. Wormtail is a worthless ball of sniveling, cowardly, lard. The man is a pathetic dueler, he can't act as a spy except in his rat form, can't really risk being seen in public, he is a rather low powered wizard, he sucks at wards and charms and is only mildly good with transfiguration and herbology, which is still not remotely useful to the Dark Lord.

"The man has no backbone and the only reason he returned to the Dark Lord in the first place was because he hoped that Voldemort could protect him from _you, _Dumbledore_,_ and Harry Potter. He did not return out of loyalty or a desire to see the Dark Lord reborn, he did it out of fear and in an attempt to save his own sorry hide. He is worthless and a total waste of space.

"In contrast, you were one of the most formidable aurors to cross the Dark Lord's forces during the first war. You are a powerful wizard with a great many useful talents. You are a highly skilled dueler and if we give you Pettigrew and you hand him over to the Ministry, it will clear your name and people will realize that you were _not_ responsible for the Potter's deaths, and _not_ a death eater. They will likely feel guilty for you having been wrongfully imprisoned and you will be welcomed back into the Light with open arms. And when Dumbledore calls his Order back together, you will undoubtedly be invited back in."

Understanding dawned in Sirius's eyes and he scowled. "You want me to be a spy," he hissed.

"Among other things, yes."

"I won't be a murderer, I won't be marked, and I won't betray my friends," Sirius growled.

"You won't be asked to kill if you do not wish to do so. If you ever go on raids you can stun and use other non-lethal spells. As for being marked, obviously it would be unwise to mark you if we wish to use you as a spy, so that is not something you will have to concern yourself with in any sort of immediate situation. As for betraying your friends, well that's relative."

Sirius barked out a disdainful laugh. "Relative, he says."

"We hope to bring Remus Lupin to our side. He _is_ a werewolf; he _belongs_ with the Dark. Dumbledore will never truly push through any reform that benefits werewolves, no matter what he claims. He is the Light Lord, and werewolves are Dark creatures. They do not fall under his protection and he bears them no responsibility. It is a part of the Dark Lord's task to reassure the safety and prosperity of all Dark magic users, both human and creature. When he builds a new magical government the dark creatures will be treated with the respect that they are due."

Sirius snorted. "Moony would never join the Dark."

"He might. If you and Harry joined. The only thing that's keeping him back are his ties to the light. His debt to Dumbledore, who really is only just using him, and his loyalty to you, and to Harry Potter."

"And what about Harry? He wouldn't join you. You would have me betray my own godson? Never. I will _never_ join the dark."

"Let me pose you different question, then," the man said calmly. "Would you join the Dark if Harry chose it?"

"What?" Sirius blanched.

"The prophecy itself says that Harry Potter has two paths. That he could rule by the Dark Lord's side as his equal. If Harry Potter _chose_ that path, would you support him? Would you stand by his side?"

Sirius scoffed. "Harry would never join Voldemort. Voldemort _killed his parents_. No matter what role Dumbledore might or might not have had in it, it won't change the fact that Voldemort killed James and Lily."

"Hypothetical scenario. If Harry joined the Dark Lord, would you follow?"

"He wouldn't!"

"_Hypothetical scenario!" _the man said, raising his voice for the first time.

Sirius scoffed and looked away scowling. "_If_ Harry chose to go against Dumbledore... _if_ he... if he _joined_ Voldemort – which he _wouldn't_... then I'd stand by Harry. He's my godson. I failed him before and left when I should have stayed, but I won't abandon him again. I'd stand by Harry no matter what path he chose. It's my duty. He's mine to protect."

The blond man smiled softly and Sirius was startled and confused by the depth to the expression.

"I sure hope you mean that, Sirius," he said and Sirius watched as the blond man brought his hands up and began to slide a silver ring off his finger. The moment it left his hand completely his appearance shimmered and then melted away.

Sirius gasped as he found himself sitting opposite his godson.

"H-harry?" Sirius asked.

"Will you join us, Sirius? Please?" Harry asked with hope in his voice.

"Whaa.. how... Ha-harry?" Sirius stuttered while his mouth floundered like a fish.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you Sirius. I've been hiding things and you've been so worried about me, with the tournament and all... but I just couldn't risk telling anyone what's really going on. I couldn't risk anyone finding out the truth. If Dumbledore gets wind of what I'm doing... of _who_ I'm with, then... I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to have me killed. Or lock me up somewhere. If he realizes that he's lost control of his weapon; that I've_ joined Voldemor_t, he'll probably do anything to keep me from him. There's no telling what Dumbledore will do if he gets desperate. I just _couldn't risk it._"

"What... what is going on! How did this happen? You... you joined _Voldemort!_ Harry, are you insane!"

"He's nothing like what I used to think he would be. Not really."

"He's _Voldemort!_ He killed your parents!"

"Yeah, well I've forgiven him for that, alright! Besides, he was tricked! Dumbledore was trying to trick him into destroying himself, and me and my parents were just collateral damages! Voldemort was used and manipulated right along with the rest of us! Dumbledore is _still_ doing it! Every year, he has allowed these different situations to spawn and grow out of control, all in the hopes that Voldemort and I will come head to head and finally just destroy each other! I'm not going to be that man's pawn anymore! I refuse to be someone else's weapon!"

"So you'll be Voldemort's weapon!"

"It's not like that! And at least Voldemort is _honest_ with his followers! No one joins Voldemort without knowing exactly what they're getting into."

"Yeah! Death, murder, torture and servitude!"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!"

"VOLDEMORT IS AN INSANE, MURDERING, MEGALOMANIAC!"

"HE IS NOT!" Harry yelled, standing to his feet and knocking his chair out from behind him.

Buckbeak made an annoyed screeching sound and the two turned to look at him warily for a moment. Harry still felt himself fuming but he picked his chair back up and sat down.

"At least... he's not insane. Yes, he's a murderer, but he only kills when it's necessary to progress his plans. And he's not a megalomaniac... he's just really ambitious," Harry said in a low cold voice.

Sirius barked out an incredulous laugh. "Ambitious? Harry, he's trying to take over the world!"

"He's trying to save the world!"

"That's ridiculous!"

"You don't know anything about what's really going on, Sirius! I mean it! Nothing! There is so much more going on than anyone ever realized. Publically, people were told that the war was all about wizarding supremacy and power over muggles, but it never had anything to do with that! Not really. Voldemort drew in some of his followers with that line just so he could get them to work for him, but _his_ goals, _his task_, has nothing to do with that!"

"Well what the hell _is it_ then?"

"I can't tell you!" Harry moaned and collapsed back into his seat. "Not yet... even I only know bits and pieces of it and that's because I stumbled across it on my own and confronted him about it. He admitted that I was right, but hasn't yet been willing to go into deeper detail. He's bound by an oath to Magic itself. This is so much bigger than anyone knows."

"How can you possibly trust him, Harry? How? He's... he's a _monster_, Harry! Even if what all you say about Dumbledore is true and he really is a lying manipulative old bastard, how can you think that _Voldemort_ is any better?"

"I know because I've spent the last few months getting to know him. I mean, _really_ getting to know him. He's nothing like I ever expected him to be. _Nothing, _Sirius. You don't know what Voldemort is like in person or in private because you've never seen that side of him. Hardly anyone does. He keeps his true self really private because he can't really trust hardly anyone. But he _is_ a person. He's got this big, omnipotent, scary, alter-ego that he shows to the public and to his lower followers, but it's just a mask. It's how he deals with his responsibilities. How he maintains control of so many aggressive and ambitious personalities. He has to use fear and respect to control most of them, but if you really get to know him, you see he's a real person behind the scenes. He's still human."

"Human! Harry are you kidding me? I mean, I guess I haven't seen him since his _grand return_, but if he looks anything like he did before, he hardly classifies as human! Bloody snake-faced bastard!"

"That's just a transformation! He can still look human if he wants! In fact, it took him more than a month to teach his new body to take on his old form."

"What?"

"It's not important. The point is that he _is human._ He still _looks human_, as long as he's with someone he trusts – which admittedly, isn't often – and no matter how much of a crazy bastard he acts in public, he's still a man. He still thinks and feels and is still capable of giving a shit about people. Yes, he's a controlling bastard. Yes, he's a murderer. He has goals and he believes strongly in them, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals, but that doesn't mean he's a monster."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe his 'real person' thing could be the act, and the controlling insane bastard is the real him?"

"It's not," Harry said with a hard, determined voice. "Look, Sirius, I've been at this for _months._ I've gotten to know him pretty well."

"And how the hell did you _get to know_ him? How could you have been working with Voldemort for _months! _You've been in school!"

"I go visit him every bloody day, Sirius! I've got a two-way port-key that takes me directly to his manor house and back, and I use a time-turner so that it never looks like I'm missing from the school."

"Oh, Merlin!" Sirius groaned as his hands came up and began to rub his tired and haggard face.

"Come on, Sirius! I'm trying to help you, here! You won't have to stay in this damn cave, or _any_ cave, if you come join us! You can stay in the manor house with a bed and three meals a day! Tom's house elf Mixey is a great cook and she's not weird or crazy or anything. And I'll be there! That's where I'm staying this summer."

"Wait, what!"

"I'm not going back to the Dursley's this summer," Harry stated in a hard voice while sitting straighter and folding his arms across his chest."

Sirius paused and sat, unsure what to say for a moment. "Does anyone know of this plan?"

"Ron and Hermione are aware that I don't intend to stay with the Dursley's. Obviously they don't know where I'm really going. I'm going to let them think I'm staying in France."

"France? Why France?"

"Hermione and Ginny are under the impression that I've got some secret love interest at the school. I wouldn't tell them who he was with the excuse that he wasn't out to his family yet, and we didn't want to risk the tabloids getting a hold of his name. Basically I intend to let them think I hooked up with one of the male students that stayed this year from Beauxbatons. If Dumbledore thinks I ran off to France with my boyfriend it will look less suspicious than me just disappearing from sight for three months without any explanation at all.

"I know it would be easier to stay under Dumbledore's radar if I just went back to the Dursley's, but I absolutely _refuse_ to go back there! I will not be forced into the company of those bastards, ever again. The only reason Dumbledore sent me to live with them in the first place was because he wanted them to break me. Well _fuck him!_ And fuck the Dursley's! I won't ever go back there!"

"Fine, Harry. Alright. But... but Voldemort's manor? Are you crazy?"

"I swear it, Sirius! It's nothing like that for me. He trusts me. I trust _him!_ I know it sounds mental, but I... he and I we're like... friends?"

"Friends?" Sirius echoed incredulously. "Lord Voldemort does not have _friends_, Harry! That's idiotic! It's just an act! You're angry that Dumbledore manipulated, but now you're just being manipulated by Voldemort instead!"

"I AM NOT!" Harry roared. "You know _nothing_ about this, Sirius! Nothing! You're making all of these statements and assumptions from things you saw and heard second hand during the last war, but you've never seen it yourself or actually spoken to the man as an ally or a friend. He's totally different. You've only seen the side of him that he shows to enemies on the battlefield! I've spent hours and hours, _every single day for three months_ in his company, Sirius! I'm not a fool or an idiot. He's not playing me."

"What the hell are you doing with him to warrant spending _hours_ with him every bloody day!"

"He's been teaching me. Dueling and magic. We also work out together."

Sirius stared at Harry with shocked disbelief.

"You _what? _You _work out_ together? What the bloody hell does that even mean?"

"He has a big gym set up in the manor house with exercise equipment that he designed and built. Weight training and muscle building. He'd been working out in there every morning since he got his new body back. He needed to get it into proper shape, so it made sense for him. After he started teaching me dueling, he told me I needed to work on my stamina and endurance so I could last longer in battles, and to improve my dodging and foot work. That's when he told me to start coming for his morning work out too and he'd teach me to use his equipment."

Sirius still looked dumbfounded and blinked several times as if he was still having enormous trouble wrapping his mind around what he'd just heard.

"The Dark Lord _works out_ in a gym?" he said slowly.

Harry smirked. "Yes, he does. Most of his exercise equipment looks like it's basically modeled after muggle exercise equipment too. He's even got a magical treadmill."

Sirius's jaw floundered for a moment before he shook his head in disbelief. "I cannot even _picture_ that."

Harry laughed.

"He's in his real form whenever we're in the gym. I guess it would probably look pretty weird to see him in there each morning in his serpentine form. I'm going to have to get used to that form though, since he's going to be using it a lot more often during the summer."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, well he's going to be bringing in all his old Death Eaters soon. He's been sending out magical pulses through the Dark Marks on a regular schedule for the past month, and he's sped it up to every two days, and by next week he'll be doing it every day, and then at the end of that week he'll actually call them."

"Wait, why is he doing all that?"

"Warning, really. Giving them time to prepare. They'll know that after it's pulsed once a day for one week that he's going to call them to him, and knowing that, they'll be able to plan and prepare for it. They also know he's back to full power now because the magical pulses have been growing in strength for months. With this much advance warning, there's no excuse not to show up. Anyway, once he's called them back to him, Death Eaters will be coming and going from the Manor all the time, so he'll probably be staying in his Serpentine form almost all the time."

"What about you? You said you'd be staying there this summer. You'll get seen."

"That's what this is for," Harry said, pulling the ring out of his pocket. "Actually, I want to key you into it, so we'd may as well do that now." Harry slipped it back onto his left index finger and his appearance shimmered and shifted back into the older, blond-haired man from earlier.

"That is crazy," Sirius said with a bit of awe to his tone. "Where on earth did you find something like that?"

"The ring?" Harry asked, although his voice was lower and smoother now.

"Yeah! Merlin, it even disguises your voice!"

"It's incredible, isn't it? Tom made it."

"Who?"

"Oh, shit. Er... Voldemort."

Sirius's eyebrows rose slowly into his hairline. "His name is _Tom?"_

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Yeah. But I wouldn't recommend ever _ever_ calling him that to his face. He'd probably _crucio_ you, if you did."

"What about you?"

"Well, he lets me call him that. But he and I have a... weird sort of relationship between us. The whole prophecy thing. There's also this er..." Harry paused, pulled off the ring and then pushed his messy black fringe away from his forehead exposing his scar. "My curse scar? It's more than anyone ever really suspected. Voldemort and I are connected together by some incredibly powerful and old magic. You know the part in the prophecy about how we can only die except by the hands of the other, and neither can die while the other survives?"

"Yeah..." Sirius said slowly.

"It's... true. I mean, we're literally immortal unless we kill each other. He cannot die as long as I live, and I cannot die as long as he lives. The only way that the two of us can die is if we shoot _Avada Kadavra's_ at each other at the same time. Otherwise, we're immortal."

Sirius's jaw dropped and he fell back into his chair as if he had just been stunned. "That's insane!"

"It's true. It's really complicated, and I can't really risk some of the details getting out so I'm afraid I won't be explaining it in any more detail, but just trust me when I say it's true. I know that you're afraid that all of this stuff is just being fed to me by Voldemort and that he's manipulating me or tricking me or something, but I seriously found out most of it on my own. He didn't get me, Sirius, I went to him. I found him, and went to him on my own. He was _shocked_ when I first showed up. He thought it was some sort of trick or a trap. And he didn't feed me the prophecies, _I found them._ I went digging around in Trelawney's head and dug the memories out of her on my own. I gave them to Tom!"

"What do you mean that _you_ dug it out of her head?"

Harry grinned. "I'm really good at legilimency. Anyway, I got side tracked," he paused and put the ring back on, slipping back into his blond alter-ego. He rubbed his finger over the green stone set into the thick silver band and then extended his hand across the table to Sirius. "Touch the ring and it will key into your magical signature."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to protest and get back on the thing about his godson being skilled at _legilimency_ of all things, but huffed and touched the ring. It glowed for a second and a moment later Harry's appearance shimmered and shifted back to that of black-haired, green-eyed, Harry Potter. But he was still wearing the ring.

"What just happened?" Sirius asked.

"I keyed you into the ring. Now you'll be able to see through the glamors to the real me. I can wear the ring all the time at the manor over the summer. When I look in the mirror I will see my real face, although I can switch it so that I see the glamors myself in case I want to make adjustments to it. Anyone keyed into the ring sees my real appearance too, but anyone else sees the fake me."

"And Voldemort _made_ that?"

"Yup. It's incredibly complex magic. He's amazing at crafting things like this. You should have seen this magical orb that he made for when I went to Snape."

"Snape? Snape! He was the spy who told Voldemort the prophecy!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "_Yes he was_, but he's been used and fucked around almost as much as the rest of us. Dumbledore has screwed him almost as much as he screwed you. But Snape got a cushy job out of it. You got locked away with fucking dementors."

Sirius's face went hard and he scowled angrily.

"Anyway, Sirius... I hate to do this, but I really need some promises from you before I can keep going. I've already told you _way too much_, but I really want to trust you."

Sirius sat up and looked at Harry. "What do you need?"

"I need a vow that you won't go to Dumbledore. An _Unbreakable Vow_ that you won't reveal any what I've told you, to Dumbledore. You don't have to join Voldemort or the Dark if you don't want to, but I need to know you aren't going to betray me to the Light either."

"I would never betray you, Harry!"

"Then make the vow. _Please_, Sirius," Harry pleaded.

Sirius stared Harry in the eyes for a moment before sighing and running his hand through his hair. "Of course, pup. I'll make the vow."

The next five minutes was spent with their left hands clasped while they each held their wand in their right, pointing at their joined hands and speaking the vow.

Sirius swore to never reveal the secret of Harry's allegiances to anyone, but specifically Dumbledore or anyone in the Order of the Phoenix or Ministry, unless given express permission by Harry himself. Once the magic had settled the two sat in silence in the dim cave for several long minutes.

Finally Sirius heaved a big, defeated sigh and leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Are you really sure about this Harry? I mean... _Voldemort_?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head at his godfather. "Yes, Sirius. I really am sure."

"How did this happen? How did you end up going to Voldemort? You said you found _him?_ That you went to _him? _How...?"

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other knee. "After my name came out of the cup on Halloween, everyone ditched me. _Everyone._ I mean, I know you stood by me, but you weren't here. It took months for letters to come back and forth between us, so I was basically all alone. Ron and Hermione ditched me.

"I did a lot of thinking in the beginning. I sort of went into myself and started questioning and thinking about things that I'd ignored or taken for granted before. I also sort of accidentally stumbled across this huge resource of magical energy inside me that I didn't realize was there. I can't really explain it, but an enormous amount of my magic was being diverted and focused on something completely frivolous. Once I stopped it, I suddenly had access to all this magical energy and mental focus that I never had before. I could think more clearly and my mind was more focused. I _got_ things. And I could see and _feel_ the magic around me. It suddenly became so much easier to do magic, and it was amazing.

"I started teaching myself some more advanced magics in preparation for the tasks and it just sort of took off from there. I ended up digging into the Dark Arts all on my own," Harry paused as he saw Sirius's head shoot up in attention and his eyes widen a bit. "There's a place inside the school... it's not on the Map so I don't think you or the Marauders found it. It's called the Room of Requirement."

Sirius frowned. "I've heard of that. But everyone said it was just a myth. James tried to find it but we never did."

"Well I know where it is. It can be whatever you need, and that includes unplottable and exempt from the dark magic wards around the school. If you perform dark magic in there, no one will know. I practiced it in there."

Harry had decided to just stick with this story for consistency sake, but also because he wanted to keep at least one of his secrets in the school _secret. _If ever he needed to escape somewhere inside the school, he wanted to be able to go to the chamber without anyone knowing that he was there.

"So that's how I started getting into the Dark Arts. You remember how I told you about that vision I had during the summer? The one where Voldemort was talking with Wormtail and another man I didn't recognize? Voldemort told the third man that he wanted me for something – remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Sirius said nodding his head.

"Well, that wasn't the last vision I had. I kept having them all year and they got longer and clearer the more er... the more I tapped into my own dark magic. Not only did they get easier to remember, but they stopped hurting. I guess the more my affinity shifted to dark, the more compatible my mind was with the visions from Voldemort's mind so they didn't hurt anymore.

"The thing I never really explained to anyone about my dreams and visions about Voldemort is that I wasn't _watching_ the dream, I would experience the whole thing from Voldemort's perspective. Like I _was_ him. I would speak his words and think his thoughts and then I'd wake up from it and be all confused and disoriented for a minute while I realized that those weren't _my_ thoughts, but _his_. Anyway, the more visions I had and the more I got into his head, the more I realized that there was something much bigger going on. Things that had been hidden from me my whole life by Dumbledore. I also realized that Voldemort was a _person._ He had thoughts and feelings like a real human being – not the insane monster I had always thought him to be.

"The more time passed and the more visions I had, I started to figure some things out. I also figured out where he was staying, and who he had working for him inside the school. So the week after the second task I confronted his spy inside Hogwarts and asked that he take me to him.

"By that point I had already decided to... I don't know... help him? Join him? My affinity is completely dark now. I'm a Dark Wizard and I'm proud of it. I love the Dark arts. They're thrilling and exciting and... everything is just so... it's just..." Harry's voice trailed off in awe and he was shaking his head and had a far away look in his eyes. Sirius could see a slightly crazed glow in Harry's eyes and felt a pang of fear.

"Harry, are you addicted?" he asked suddenly.

Harry's head snapped back and he refocused on Sirius. "Not anymore. Tom's made sure I got it under control. But... well, I was. I guess it was probably pretty bad too."

"_Tom _did? Sirius asked incredulously.

"Gah... _Voldemort_. Voldemort made sure I got it under control."

"I get that, I just find it hard to believe. Seems to me like he'd benefit from having his followers addicted."

"Dark wizards who are in control of their magic are far more useful than Dark wizards who are controlled _by_ their magic," Harry said, repeating something that Tom had told him several times. "And he didn't want me to be weak or for my actions to be controlled by my magic, rather than my mind."

"Maybe he _says_ that, but I know for a fact that the more high on Dark magic a wizard is, the more apt they are to go to him. The Dark magic makes them _desperate_ to go to the Dark Lord. You can't claim that it had nothing to do with you going to him."

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his shaggy black hair. "It did. I'll admit that. I know now that it's true. I probably wouldn't have actually gone to him if I wasn't so enticed by the power of the Dark magic I had been using. But I can only be grateful that that happened. The path that took me to him was a bit iffy, but I wouldn't change any of it. I'm _glad_ I went to him. So much has come out of it that I wouldn't give up for the world. And I finally feel like I'm in control of my own destiny. For the first time I'm staying on top of things. I finally know what's going on, and I'm doing things about it.

"And the more I've learned about what's really going on – the more I learn about the Ministry, and Dark creatures, and what the real differences are between Light and Dark magic... the more I realize I _agree_ with Voldemort. With his real goals. His political ideals. There are some things we come to head about, but they're minimal. And he's not unreasonable. He's willing to listen to other opinions on things. He just doesn't want to show weakness to his followers, so if a person ever disagrees enough to try and contradict him, they just have to make sure they do it in private. If you go against him in public it'll just make him angry, but if you are respectful about it, and do it in a private setting, he'll listen to a logical, rational, argument. He welcomes it, even."

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "I just have some trouble taking what you're saying and what I personally saw in the last war and reconciling the two."

"I know, Sirius. I know. But... can you just give him a chance?"

"You mean, can I give being a Death Eater a chance?" Sirius asked, grimacing.

Harry sighed. "Is it true you have a Dark magic affinity?"

Sirius's grimace deepened. "Just barely. It's more neutral than Dark. Heredity and years of tutoring is hard to counter act, no matter how badly you want it."

Harry nodded his head. "He is the Lord of all Dark wizards. Deemed so by Magic itself. He fights for the rights and prosperity of Dark magic. The Light has been in control of magical Britain for so long that the balance is completely out of whack. Things are too one-sided. He's going to fix that. But he's also working towards an even greater thing. Something so important... it's not just for the Dark magic users, it's for the good of _all_ magic users. Wizards and creatures alike. If he fails... it'll be bad Sirius. People don't realize what's really at stake."

"Then _tell me!_ Help me understand, Harry."

Harry huffed and ran his hand through his hair again. "It's complicated...but... here's how I first learned about it. Before I even spoke to To-Voldemort about it. Tens of thousands of years ago, when the the High Elves still lived in our world, their seers foretold the end of the world. According to their vision, if muggles ever discovered the existence of magic, they would try to steal it for themselves. When they succeed at that, the end of the world will come, and we will all die.

"They somehow communed with _Magic_ so that they could warn it of their vision, but it already knew. They learned that Magic was setting a plan in motion to try and save at least _some_ of us. It could only save the magical creatures and the magical human half-breeds – wizards – but not the muggles. It assigned two magical Lords – a Lord of the Light, and a Lord of the Dark. It was the task of the magical Lords to keep a magical balance, and to make sure that the secret is kept and that when the time comes for the muggle's Armageddon, we stop them from stealing the magic and save ourselves.

"Dumbledore is the Light Lord and I _think_ he _may _know about all this, but I don't think he realizes that there is no way to save the muggles. I think he thinks he can save everyone. Or something... I don't know. In any case, he's a fool for ignoring the harsh reality of the true prophecy, which is that the muggles can't be saved. They're doomed no matter what. Our options are to save ourselves, or save no one. We all die, or only the muggles die. To-Voldemort has no qualms with sacrificing the muggles. He admits that in his youth he thought he could just bypass the waiting and destroy the muggles now, saving the rest of us. But he's realized that will never work. That he was young and naïve. He isn't going to focus on the muggles this time, but instead focus on the magical system. Getting things back in balance, and increasing the security and secrecy of our society. And when the muggle Armageddon comes, he'll fight it. But he isn't going to do anything that will risk making it happen sooner than needed – which is what the muggle slaughtering was really doing in the end."

"You're serious?"

"No, _you're_ Sirius."

Sirius blinked at him before chuckling and shaking his head. "I cannot believe you just used that joke."

"What?" Harry asked in mock innocence and laughing.

Sirius sighed but smiled. "So where did you find out about this whole end of the world thing?"

"An ancient book I found. The whole thing is written in Old Albric. Hermione, Ginny, and I spent most of the last term translating it. The legend was in it."

"Old Aldric? How in Merlin's name did you translate _that?"_

"A book I found on the language," Harry said shrugging.

Sirius blinked at him in mild disbelief for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. "Alright, fine. So you went and confronted Voldemort about all this then?"

"Yes. He was pretty shocked I found out about it on my own. Just about no one knows about this stuff anymore, and he's bound by an oath of secrecy not to speak about certain aspects of it. It has something to do with how he became the Dark Lord in the first place. Apparently there's some sort of system in place where each successor has to discover how to take the role on their own, so no Dark Lord can speak of it to any one else. It's to prevent a Dark Lord from choosing their successor. Fate has to do it, or something. It's the same for Light Lords."

Sirius frowned and gave Harry a long, piercing look.

"You aren't aspiring to be the next Dark Lord, are you?" he asked suddenly, in a completely serious tone.

Harry blinked once before bursting out laughing. "No Sirius. I'm not going to be the next Dark Lord. It's impossible."

"And why is that?"

"Because a new Dark Lord cannot come into power until the last one has died. The only way that Voldemort is going to die, is if I die with him. So, no chance of me being his successor."

Sirius grimaced and his brow furrowed deeply. "I still don't get what's going on with that. How the hell can the two of you be tied to each other like that?"

"I told you it's complicated and I also told you that I can't tell you about most of it."

Sirius grumbled and leaned back in his chair, pouting slightly. "Can you tell me about _any_ of it?"

Harry sighed. "It's a combination of things. He's immortally linked to me because of something that went wrong when he tried to kill me, and I'm immortally linked to him because of an unexpected side-effect of the ritual we used to give him a body back a number of months ago. We didn't really get any of it figured out until after I'd found the real prophecy and we did some real digging into it's meanings. It was after _that_ that we realized that we had already accidentally made it true without even realizing it."

"But how can you be _immortal?"_

"It's not perfect immortality. Not a physical immortality. Our bodies can still be damaged, and potentially even killed. His was destroyed all those years ago, for example. But our souls and magical cores are immortal. We're both bound to this world by each other's existences. We're tethered here, so our souls cannot cross over."

Sirius shook his head and looked, unfocused at the cave wall. "Crazy..."

The two sat there in silence again for a minute. "I need to leave soon," Harry said, finally breaking the heavy quiet. "I'm going to need you to make up your mind before the end of term. It'll be harder for me to get away from the manor after that. Once I don't show up at Privet Drive, Dumbledore is going to be searching for me like crazy. As long as I stay inside the manor's wards, he won't be able to find me, but that means I won't be able to come out to meet you then."

"You're going to spend the entire summer inside Voldemort's manor?" Sirius gaped.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You do realize that otherwise I would have been spending my entire summer locked inside my room at the Dursley's and only let out of it to clean their house and do their gardening, right? I didn't get to go anywhere there either. In fact, I had considerably less space. The manor is quite large and the grounds are expansive. Voldemort made sure the wards extended all the way out to the edge of the property so there's a lot of land. The grounds and the garden are pretty overgrown and messy, but he's planning to get a couple more house elves in the next month to help keep the place up. Since it was just him and Wormtail there regularly right now, he didn't see there being a lot of need for more help, but since the Death Eaters will be frequenting the house soon, he decided to finally do it."

"Right... _Wormtail..._ So... so you've seen him? You seriously spoke to him?" Sirius asked, incredulously.

Harry nodded and then remembered something that caused him grin, wickedly. "I have. In fact, I got to practice two unforgivable on him."

"What?"

"When Voldemort was teaching me how to do the _Imperius_, we used Wormtail as my test subject. And a number of weeks ago when Wormtail did something insanely idiotic, and Voldemort was punishing him for his undeniably grievous mistake, he let me throw the _cruciatus_ at the stupid, fat little man as reward for stopping the mistake from becoming a huge problem."

"You've cast two of the three Unforgivables!" Sirius exclaimed before groaning. "Oh, Harry..."

"Actually, I've cast all three. Got the killing curse to work the first time I tried it."

Sirius's head snapped up and he looked horrified. "Harry!" he hissed. "Please tell me you're joking!"

"I'm not. And the stupid bitch I threw the curse at deserved what she got."

"Oh, Merlin, Harry! Please don't say that..." Sirius moaned.

Harry just sat there with a blank, unapologetic expression on his face.

Sirius sighed and looked up. "Who?"

"Rita Skeeter."

Sirius blinked and gaped at him.

"You killed Rita Skeeter."

"Yes."

"Anyone else?"

"No. She's the only one."

"How long ago?"

"It's been months."

"And no one suspects it was you?"

"She was an unregistered animagus. Her form was a small beetle and she used it to spy on people. No one knew of her form and no one knew she was sneaking into Hogwarts. There's no way that anyone could suspect me of having the opportunity to do it."

Sirius grumbled and ran his hand through his long, messy hair in a frustrated gesture. "You've got to be careful Harry. Using just one of those curses on another person is enough to get you a lifetime sentence in Azkaban. And believe me when I tell you that you do not want to go there."

"I know, Sirius. Don't worry. I'm not an idiot. Besides, if I ever got caught, Voldemort would get me out."

"You can't know that, pup."

"I know it," Harry said in a tone that showed no doubt.

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Alright, Harry... look, I said I would stand by you and I meant it. You're my godson, and I'm going to be there for you, no matter where you go."

"Don't agree to this lightly, Sirius. You can stand by me and remain neutral too. Just stay out of everything. Don't agree to join the Dark unless you really think you can do it. You won't have to kill anyone, but you _will_ have to show Voldemort deference. You have to treat him with proper respect, and follow his orders. But if you do join, he's willing to hand over Wormtail. We're going to have to clean out the last year of his memories with one hell of a powerful _obliviate_, but you can have him once we do that."

Sirius nodded his head slowly as his eyes shown how intently he was thinking over this.

"If you get an offer to go back to the Order, you will be expected to spy for us," Harry continued.

Sirius groaned lightly under his breath. "Right..."

"But if you join, you get your name cleared, and if you want, you can stay at the manor this summer with me. A soft, clean bed, three square meals a day with clean clothes and access to me for as long as you stay at the manor. Of course you'll be a cleared man by the end so you can come and go as you please."

Sirius gave him a long, scrutinizing look before he sighed and nodded his head.

"I'll do it, Harry."

"You have to be sure, Sirius."

"I'm sure. I'll..." he heaved a large sigh, "I'll join the Death Eaters."

Harry smiled at him softly and nodded his head. "Okay, but I'm still going to give you some time to think on it before I take you to him. I don't want you rushing into this and regretting it because there's no going back afterwards. If he gives up Wormtail he's going to want something in return. He's willing to do this only really because I asked him. This is a personal favor to me, you know. He's still a bit iffy towards you because of all the trouble you caused him during the first war."

Sirius quirked an eyebrow and Harry noticed the corner of his mouth threaten to turn up into a proud smirk.

"If you do this, you cannot be an ass to him in any sort of public setting. I meant it when I said he doesn't mind hearing opposing ideas and input, but it has to be in private. You can't openly oppose him if there are any other Death Eaters around, you got me? You can't push his buttons. He wont' stand for it. And I don't want you getting hurt."

"I can look after myself, Harry. I'm the adult here, remember?"

"Yeah, and you're a Gryffindor."

"So are you."

"I'm nothing more than a snake in the lion's den, Sirius. I was never supposed to be in Gryffindor."

Sirius blanched. "What?"

"The sorting hat wanted me in Slytherin. I had to beg and plead with it to put me anywhere else. It reluctantly put me into Gryffindor, but not after making it blatantly clear that it thought I belonged in Slytherin."

Sirius's lips moved slightly but no sound came out. He closed his mouth and sighed. "You were still a Gryffindor."

"I was forcing it. I was trying so hard to live up to everyone else's expectations. All I wanted was to finally please someone. To finally make people happy. My whole childhood was spent being told I was a worthless, good-for-nothing, freeloader and a freak. There was _nothing_ I could do that would please the Dursley's. _Nothing_.

"Hogwarts was like a fresh start and all I wanted was to _finally_ be able to make someone care about me. Make someone proud or pleased. It was all a part of Dumbledore's plan – I see that now. Do you realize that the first two people I really spent any real time with in the wizarding world were Hagrid and Ron? And you know what both of them told me? Gryffindors were brave and courageous, and Slytherin's were all dirty lying bastards who went dark and turned into murderers. And the guy who killed my parents was a Slytherin and he was the darkest most evil bastard of them all. How do you think I felt when the hat said I belonged in Slytherin?"

"Oh... Harry..."

"So I tried... _so hard_ to prove the hat wrong. I was sorted into Gryffindor and I had to prove to myself and to everyone else that it was where I was supposed to be. I was sorted there because it was where I belonged, not because I begged the hat not to put me in Slytherin. That's the real reason I acted the way I did. Part of it was real, but part of it was always forced. It was a reaction... an _over-_reaction. It was me compensating..." Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair roughly.

"I feel better now," Harry said quietly. "I feel more like... _me_. Like I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. Like I've come to terms with things and I'm not lying to myself anymore. I know, rationally, that there are things a bit... _wrong_, with me. But I'm okay with that. I enjoy things that the moral standard says are wrong to enjoy. But I don't care. I'm done lying to myself. Done trying to force myself to be something I'm not. Anyway, we've run off on another tangent again, and I really do need to get back.

"The point is that, while this life is the one for me, and I would really like to have you as a part of my life, and to be able to help you, I also know that this life might _not_ be the life for you. So, I'll come back the last week of term – probably a day or two after the third task. If you're still sure then, I'll take you to him."

Sirius held Harry's eyes for a long moment before he nodded his head. "Alright pup. I'll... I'll think on it."

"Good."

Harry stood up and straightened his nice black robes. Harry pulled the mokeskin pouch out of his inner pocket again and pulled out a smaller bag from within it. He set it on the table and with a tap of his wand, it unshrunk to the size of a medium sized suitcase.

Sirius looked at it and then up at Harry in confusion.

"Food," Harry said with a small smile and a shrug. "And several sets of clean robes and a few other supplies."

Sirius ducked his head, feeling ashamed that his godson was having to take care of him when it was supposed to be the other way around. He had failed Harry in so many ways...

"Thanks, pup," he said in a raspy whisper.

"I'll see you in a week," Harry said as he headed to the mouth of the cave.

"Bye Harry."

"Bye."

– –


	29. Chapter 29

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

The morning of the third task dawned and Harry made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was a bigger deal than usual since the Minister for Magic was there, as well as a number of extra guests, even thought the actual task wasn't until that evening. Harry had been exempt from his exams because he was one of the tournament champions but he had only taken up that offered relief in History of Magic and Divination. In his other classes, he had insisted on taking the exams anyway. Ron had been utterly dumbfounded by this, while Hermione was beaming with pride.

That morning, for example, was his History of Magic exam that he didn't need to, or even remotely _want to _take. So his plans for the morning was to sit in the back of the classroom and read. His plans were interrupted when Professor McGonagall came up behind him and told him that all of the champions were supposed to gather in the small chamber off the Great Hall.

"But the task isn't until this evening," Harry said, looking at her in utter bewilderment.

"Yes, but the champion's families are invited to watch the final task. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

Harry gaped at her in utter dumbfounded confusion.

"My..._family?"_ Harry deadpanned.

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

Harry gave her a piercing look and she actually looked a bit unnerved by it. "Is this Dumbledore's idea?"

He didn't seriously get the Dursleys down here, did he? Harry was quite sure that nothing short of the _Imperius_ curse would get Vernon Dursley to come with in a hundred miles of Hogwarts.

"You may be surprised by what you find there, Harry. You have until the end of breakfast," she said before turning and heading off to inform the others.

Harry blinked after her, still entirely confused as to what was going on. There really was _no way in hell_ that the Dursleys would be at Hogwarts. Just _no. way._

So who was it? Surely not Sirius? He hadn't written anymore letters since Harry's visit the week prior, so Harry really didn't know what was going on with his godfather. He could have taken polyjuice potion and disguised himself, but even that would only work with Dumbledore's assistance and Harry just didn't see that as being very likely. And even if it was, it was an insanely risky thing for Sirius to do! The Minister of Magic was sitting no more than twenty feet from Harry at this very minute.

"What do you think is going on, Harry?" Hermione asked in a hushed, worried, voice.

"I have no idea," Harry said, still staring after McGonagall.

Hermione was frowning and looking just as concerned and suspicious as Harry. Finally she sighed and looked at her wrist watch.

"We'd better hurry, Ron or we'll be late for Professor Binns."

"Right," Ron said before stuffing another fork full of eggs into his mouth. He finally finished and then gave Harry a slightly concerned look before speaking again. "Well er... good luck, I guess?" Ron said giving Harry a hesitant look and shrugging.

"Yeah... thanks," Harry said nodding his head at them. They both stood and hurried out of the hall to take their History of Magic exam.

Harry finished his breakfast in the emptying Great Hall, slowly mulling over what could be going on. He watched as Fleur got up from where she was sitting at the Ravenclaw table and joined Cedric as he crossed to the side chamber and entered. Krum slouched off to join them shortly afterward.

Harry was frowning away at the door. He was almost dreading what he found find behind that door. Finally he stood up and slowly made his way towards it.

The door of the side chamber opened suddenly and Cedric stuck his head out, momentarily searching around before he spotted Harry.

"Harry, come on, they're waiting for you!"

This only made Harry start. Who the bloody hell was 'they'? If it was Sirius under Polyjuice, it would he a 'he'. He didn't know enough potential family members to form a 'they', and he still _knew_ that there was no way in hell that the Dursleys would set foot in Hogwarts.

Unless Dumbledore really _did_ put them under the _Imperius_. Did he seriously think Harry would fall for that? That he wouldn't notice? Was this some attempt to convince him that it would be okay if he went back to his relatives? Was –

Harry stepped through the door and blinked. There, standing a few feet from Fleur, her mother, and her little sister Gabrielle, was none other than Mrs. Weasley and Bill, standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him.

"Surprise!" Mrs. Weasley said excitedly. Harry gaped at them before a small smile crept onto his lips.

Well, this was certainly better than anything he had feared. He walked over to them, still rather stunned, and came to an awkward stop directly in front of them.

"Thought we'd come and watch you, Harry!" she said as she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He felt himself go red at the overly affectionate gesture and stood there stiffly as she began to look him over.

"Good Merlin, Harry! Look at you! You've shot up like a weed! You were always such a small dear, no offense of course Harry. You must have grown half a foot! If not more!"

Harry ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair, trying to hide his grin.

Mrs. Weasley made a tutting sound next though, and he looked up at her curiously. "Really should do something about that hair though. Getting a bit shaggy," she said and Harry saw her eyes dart over to Bill and frown at his long hair, tied into a loose low ponytail. Harry grinned.

Bill rolled his eyes at his mother and offered his hand to Harry. "Hey, Harry. Charlie wanted to come too, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Fireball. Said he's never seen anyone able to dominate one like that before. I know some people get kinda squeamish over the parseltongue thing, but Charlie couldn't help but wonder if he could find someone who speaks it to recruit for up at the reserve."

Harry barked out a small laugh and Bill smirked.

Fleur, Harry noticed, was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother's shoulder. Harry could tell she had no objection whatsoever to long hair or earrings with fangs on them.

"This was really nice of you two," Harry said taking a step back and grinning at the two of them. He really was quite surprised, but he couldn't help feel a bit odd about the whole thing.

Harry glanced over a Fleur again and then back at Bill, who had now noticed her as well.

"Hey, can I introduce you two to everyone?" Harry said suddenly, smirking at Bill. "This is Cedric, although I suppose you probably already know him...?" he trailed off and both Weasley's nodded. Cedric grinned and nodded at the two of them, giving a quick greeting. "And over there is Viktor Krum. Hey Viktor!"

The Bulgarian turned over and looked at Harry with mild confusion. They had got on well enough at the Yule Ball but that was _ages_ ago, and they really hadn't spoken since. They barely said anything at the second task and hadn't even come within five feet of each other since then.

"Viktor, these are some very good friends of mine, Mrs. Molly Weasley and her oldest son, Bill. I'm sure you two are already aware of who Viktor is."

"Oh, er, yes dear. It's a pleasure to meet you," Mrs. Weasley said. Bill, however looked considerably more enthusiastic and made a couple comments on various noteworthy games and plays that Krum had been responsible for.

"And of course, the oh so lovely Ms. Fleur Delacour," Harry said doing a sweeping motion with his hand and smirking up at Fleur who was grinning and rolling her eyes at his antics. "Fleur, this is Mrs. Molly Weasley and her eldest, Bill. Bill works as a curse and ward breaker for Gringotts.

Fleur's face lit up when she came face to face with Bill and Harry thought he even saw the faintest dusting of a blush. His grin widened.

The two began to speak then and Fleur even introduced Bill to her little sister and mother. While they chatted away, Amos Diggory came up and glared at Harry who stood there with a bewildered frown on his face.

"Can I help you with something?" Harry said curtly.

"You think you're hot stuff, do you Potter?"

"Uh.." Harry blinked, not finding the man even remotely amusing.

"Ignore him," Cedric said stepping between the two and trying to pull Harry aside. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Tri-Wizard Tournament – you know, where she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."

"Didn't bother to correct her, though, did he?" Amos Diggory said over his son's shoulder. "But you'll show him, Ced. You've beaten him once before and you'll do it again!"

Harry gave Mr. Diggory a blank, bewildered look. When the bloody hell had Cedric ever beaten him at anything? He almost said as much before he realized what the man was likely referring to.

"Wait, you mean during that quidditch game where a hundred dementors attacked me on my broom, fifty feet in the air, and sent me falling to my death? Well, I suppose if you want, you're free to consider that a victory, but I think Ced has more pride than that."

Mr. Diggory looked as if he were about to explode before Mrs. Weasley cut in abruptly.

"Rita Skeeter always went out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!" Mrs. Weasley said angrily. "I would have thought you'd know that, working at the Ministry!"

Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say something angry, but his wife laid a hand on his arm, and he merely shrugged and turned away.

Bill finally separated from Fleur and came over to investigate what was going on with the Diggorys. Seeing that things were possibly getting a bit uncomfortable he turned to Harry and asked, "Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?"

Relieved for the distraction Harry grinned and agreed.

The rest of the morning was spent walking over the sunny grounds with Bill and Mrs. Weasley, showing them the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship. Mrs. Weasley was intrigued by the Whomping Willow, which had been planted after she had left school, and reminisced at length about the gamekeeper before Hagrid, a man named Ogg.

Finally, the trio returned to the castle for lunch.

"Mum – Bill!" Ron said, looking stunned as he joined the Gryffindor table. "What're you doing here?"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh... okay," said Ron hesitantly. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebel names, so I invented a few. It's all right," he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

Fred, George, and Ginny came to sit next to them too and Harry suddenly felt as if he were back in the Burrow surrounded by the army of gingers.

Hermione showed up and Harry couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Weasley seemed a bit cold to her. He couldn't come up with a single reason as to why the change of attitude could have taken place until Ginny leaned in close and reminded him on the article in Witch Weekly that came out about Hermione and Krum all those months prior.

Harry couldn't help but find it humorous that earlier Mrs. Weasley had scolded Amos Diggory for thinking badly of Harry because of something Skeeter had written, and now she was doing the same thing to Hermione.

After lunch Harry found himself itching to slip away from the pair to pay his daily after-lunch visit to Tom. He hoped that he would just manage to get his time-turner activities lined up perfectly and begged off from the pair for a moment to 'go use the loo'. He slipped inside, pulled on his cloak and activated the map. He saw the second Harry Potter dot waiting in the hall outside the privy he was currently standing in and grinned. His other self was simply waiting for him to leave so he could slip in and take his place.

Perfect.

He slipped out, watched the dot of his future counterpart slip in after him, and quickly made his way out of the castle and across the grounds towards the edge of the wards.

A matter of minutes later and Harry was using the portkey and appearing in Tom's entry hall.

Obviously, his afternoon breaks no longer had anything to do with Tom meditating. Instead they usually skipped straight to an hour or two of dark arts instruction and some dueling practice.

Harry stepped into the study and let his bag slip off his shoulder as he came over and sat down beside Tom's chair. The older man was already comfortably perched in his chair with a periodical of some sort in his hands. Harry sighed in relief as he leaned back and Tom's hand automatically went to his hair.

"How has your day been so far?" Tom asked airily.

"Had a bit of a surprise come at me this morning," Harry said with a chuckle.

Tom paused and looked down at him curiously. "Oh?"

"Yeah, apparently there's this whole thing about the 'family' of the champions coming to the third task, and right after breakfast we were supposed to meet with them. For a minute there, McGonagall actually had me convinced that Dumbledore had somehow forced the Dursleys to show up. Turned out that Ron and Ginny's mum and oldest brother turned out to watch. I've been playing host all morning. It's honestly getting a bit exhausting, and I still have the rest of the afternoon to show them around as well."

"Playing tour guide to a pair of blood traitors, how droll," Tom sneered and Harry chuckled.

They quickly slipped into their normal routine, but Tom cut it short after only forty minutes of dueling practice. Since the task wouldn't be held until late that evening, he didn't want Harry to be excessively tired from his overly extended day.

He walked Harry to the time-turner room and just as they got there he spoke. "Ah yes, one last thing, Harry."

"Yes Tom?" Harry said turning around.

"I will be calling the Death Eaters to me tomorrow night. Severus will likely be late to the meeting since I have instructed him to go to Dumbledore first. I expect the man will send Snape to me to resume his role as spy, so I am still confident that he will make it, albeit delayed."

Harry nodded his head. "Alright. Will it be suspicious if Barty disappears from the castle at the same time as Snape being summoned? And what about Karkaroff?"

"I have told Igor not to attend. It is for the best on several levels. Dumbledore will likely be watching to see if the Durmstrang headmaster returns to me. It is also likely that several people he tried to sell out to save his own skin will attend and they will likely not be pleased with him. Barty will slip out ahead of time and hopefully his absence will not be noted."

"Should I be there?" Harry asked, finally voicing the one thing that he was most curious about.

Tom paused but smiled. "Yes, _pet_. I would like you there. I have plans, actually. We need to discuss them in more depth. I want you to make sure you come tomorrow after lunch so we can go over them."

"Alright. I'll be here."

"Good," Tom said with a small smirk before leaning forward and wrapping a hand behind Harry's neck and pulling the younger wizard in close. Their lips brushed against each other lightly once, causing magical sparks, then twice, magic popping and hissing even more, before the kiss deepened and they both momentarily lost themselves to the heady, needy, feelings. Their lips parted and tongues began to come together in a sinful dance. Harry groaned and pressed himself against Tom as his body was suddenly desperate for more contact and more friction.

Tom, always being the one with far more self control and restraint, finally pulled back and Harry whimpered. Tom chuckled lightly before smirking down at Harry with mild amusement, layered in lust.

"Mmmm... so responsive. So eager." He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against Harry's while letting his thumb rub circles into Harry's jaw. He brushed across a faint stubble and chuckled. "You need to shave," he mumbled against Harry's lips.

Harry shrugged. "Do you mind it?"

"No. It's good to know you're old enough for facial hair."

Harry rolled his eyes and gave Tom an annoyed look. "I'm almost fifteen, not twelve."

"Please don't remind me of your age, Harry. I prefer to remain blissfully deluded."

"You're the one that brought it up."

"Yes, I suppose I did." Tom sighed and took a step back and hissed open the door to the time-turner room. "Alright, pet. You should be getting back. I expect you to return to me victorious. It would be utterly obscene for you to lose to those incompetent children."

Harry snickered. "Those 'incompetent children' are all three years older than me."

"Again with the age... Yes, they are older, but they are not _you_, and they have not been trained by _me_."

Harry grinned and nodded his head. "Alright, I swear not to disappoint you," he said in a cocky, amused voice. "If I get the chance, should I visit tonight after the task?" he asked, more serious now.

"If you wish. I suspect you will be quite worn by then though. Just come to me tomorrow so we can prepare for tomorrow night."

Harry smiled and nodded one last time while walking backwards into the small room that contained the time-turner. Tom finally closed the door and Harry sighed as he turned around and slipped the small magical hourglass around his neck.

–

Once again hidden by his invisibility cloak and using the Map to guide his way, he made his way back into the castle and waited outside the bathroom while his earlier counterpart slipped inside and then disappeared. He went inside, removed the cloak and stuffed it and the map into his bag before exiting and meeting back up with Bill and Mrs. Weasley, who were none the wiser to the fact that he had actually been gone for nearly an hour, in the time that they thought he had merely gone to the loo.

He, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley whittled away the frustratingly long afternoon with a lazy walk around the castle, and then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table again. Bagman looked quite cheerful but Cornelius Fudge was looking rather annoyed.

There were more courses than usual, but Harry ate about as much as ever. Nerves weren't really an issue here. He'd had Tom throwing nasty dark hexes and curses at him every day for more than a month and didn't honestly expect anything that he would find in the maze more dangerous than the Dark Lord. Granted, Tom hadn't been honestly trying to kill him, but the man didn't pull his punches either. In more recent weeks, every dueling session had ended with a twenty minute 'break' where Harry would rest while Tom healed his wounds and applied the counters to all the curses he'd been hit with.

But he had been getting hit with fewer and fewer curses ad their training progressed. So if nothing else, Harry knew he had gotten a lot better at dodging.

He was also confident about the task because he had gotten a summery of all the different things inside it from Barty weeks ago.

After the last course Dumbledore called the Great Hall to attention and spoke a few words that Harry didn't care about and absently tuned out. McGonagall came up behind him and gathered him up to leave with the other champions. He, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor were all lead out of the hall and across the grounds towards the Quidditch field. They went through the locker rooms and onto a small open patch in the field at the entrance of the now twenty-foot tall hedge maze. The task would be starting at 9pm, and it was currently 8:32. Harry could hear the sounds of the spectators gathering in the surrounding stands and found himself gazing up into the dimming evening sky. The horizon was glowing orange but if he looked straight up he saw a deep purple filling the air.

That would be the only thing to really complicate the task. It would be done in the dark. But that was the point. The task was intended to be frightening. Being in a dark maze; lost, unsure where to go, and what you would find around the next corner. Only the dim glow from the tip of your wand to illuminate your surroundings. The creatures inside weren't necessarily all that bad – mostly they were creatures raised by Hagrid, and while Harry would easily admit that Hagrid had an idiotic love for deadly creatures, he knew that none of these were beyond his ability to handle. But it was the _not knowing_ that was intended to make it frightening. Add that to the frantic search for an end to a dizzying maze...

Harry found himself sorely contemplating using his serpentine sea krait form and the locator spell again. He knew exactly what he was looking for. At the center of the maze was the Tri-Wizard cup. All he would have to do was zero in on that cup and he would be led straight to his destination. And if he used his sea snake form, he could slither right under the damn hedges. His skin was tough enough to endure some stupid brambles.

But that would leave him vulnerable to some extent. There were some things that he would have difficulties dealing with in his snake form. His offensive parselmagic repertoire was still fairly limited. Tom had been teaching him some parselmagic spells, but it hadn't been their focus.

Besides that, there was that whole 'the judges would be monitoring his spellwork' thing to consider. And Cornelius Fudge was one of the judges. Dumbledore knew about his so-called animagus form, but none of the others did. And if Fudge found out about it, it would _have_ to register as an animagus... even if he wasn't one.

So that idea was out. He couldn't fall back on his sea krait form. He would have to do this as a human. But he could still use the locator spell. He just wasn't sure if the summoned black snake would stick to the hedge pathways or if it would just cut right through them and leave him behind.

Of course... he _could _just cut his way through the damn hedges. There was nothing in the rules that said he couldn't.

Harry was pulled out of his musings by the sound of Cornelius Fudge's voice a bit behind him. He turned around and saw the three headmasters and the Minister of Magic gathering with Ludo Bagman and talking amongst themselves. Harry checked his watch and saw that it was now 8:45pm.

Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor were all standing around in various states of nervousness. Harry realized he was the only one out of the four that didn't look about ready to piss himself and he smirked. Harry walked over and watched as Fudge separated himself from the headmasters who seemed to be in the middle of some sort of talk with Bagman. Fudge clearly looked tired.

"Minister Fudge?" Harry said in the most innocent eager voice he could muster. It was surprisingly convincing.

Fudge started and turned around to blink owlishly at Harry.

"Oh, my! Harry Potter. How are you doing, young man? Was there something I could help you with?"

"Oh no, I don't need anything, I just wanted to greet you and thank you."

"Thank me?" Fudge asked, clearly confused.

"I know it's been quite a while, nearly two years now, in fact, but I really wanted to express how _grateful_ I am for the help you gave me back during the summer before my third year. You know, the summer when I accidentally 'blew up' my muggle aunt, and you allowed me to stay in Diagon Alley after Sirius Black had escaped."

"Oh! Oh, yes... well that was.. a very... busy time. Much going on then. Quite hectic. And it really was no problem at all – that mess with your aunt, I mean."

"Well, I really did appreciate your help. I understand that elections are being held this summer. It's really quite a shame I won't be of age to vote yet, because I'd love the opportunity to vote for you. I'm really looking forward to when I'm old enough to finally partake in the whole workings of the magical governing system. In fact, I learned this year that along with inheriting the ancient Potter fortune, I've apparently also inherited the right to a seat on the Wizengamot for the Potter line. I intend to claim it once I'm old enough."

Fudge blinked and looked a bit dumbstruck for a moment.

"I-I had no idea you had political aspirations," Fudge stuttered out.

"Well, certainly not anytime soon. I'm only just about to turn fifteen next month, after all. But I've found that the inner workings of governing and politics have sparked my interest recently."

"Oh... is that so? And you say that you'd vote for me?"

"Of course," Harry said with mock eagerness and an only partially hidden sly smile. "I know that the word of a teenager probably isn't much, but I'd be more than willing to give you a public endorsement."

Fudge's face instantly lit up and Harry could see the calculating glint in the man's eyes.

"Is that so?" Fudge asked in a tone that was apparently supposed to sound only mildly interested, but came off as rather eager. Harry smirked.

"Of course."

"You know, Harry my boy, I have to admit I'm rather surprised. I was under the impression that you were..." Fudge trailed off, as if he were suddenly unsure what exactly he wanted to say.

"Ignorant of wizarding politics? Too stupid to know how to make use of my famous name? Far too loyal to a certain headmaster to support someone he rarely shows much love or the proper respect for?"

Fudge blinked at Harry's response for a stunned moment before a sly grin of his own spread across his face.

"You are certainly not what I had been led to believe you were, Mr. Potter."

Harry's grin widened. "No I'm not. And Albus Dumbledore does not show you nearly enough respect for the powerful position you hold. You are the Minister of Magic and you've been the Minister for five years already. You'd think after five peaceful years under your leadership would earn you some proper respect from the man."

Fudge's chest puffed up and his nose rose a bit into the air, imperiously. "Yes, you would think that," he said with an indignant air.

Harry noticed out of the corner of his eyes that the Headmasters and Bagman seemed to be wrapping up whatever they were discussing. "Well, I should probably go back and rejoin my fellow champions. But if, during the summer sometime, there are any events or perhaps some place that you think would be beneficial for the two of us to just happen to run into each other in the presence of photographers feel free to send me an owl and let me know."

Fudge's grin grew feral for a moment before he masked it and gave Harry a curt nod. "I just may do that, Mr. Potter. It's been a pleasant surprise speaking with you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Harry added with a grin of his own before giving the Minister a curt nod of his head and walking over towards the other champions.

A few more minutes passed and the judges left the starting area for the judges box and the four champions were left standing beside Ludo Bagman. The man brought his wand to his throat and said _Sonorus,_ activating the voice amplifying charm.

Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament!" he called out excitedly. "For tonight's task our four champions will have to make their way through this magical maze filled with dangerous challenges and deadly creatures! The current standing of our champions are, Harry Potter in first place with a total of 88 points! Cedric Diggory in second place with 76 points! Viktor Krum in third place with 72 points, and finally Fleur Delacour in fourth place with 60 points.

"As the champion with the highest current standing, Harry Potter will be let into the maze first. Two minutes later he will be joined by Cedric Diggory, than another two minutes they will be followed by Viktor Krum, and finally Fleur Delacour. The champion that reaches the center of the maze first will receive full marks! The champion with the highest number of points by the end of this evening will be our new Tri-Wizard Champion!" Bagman finished with a loud yell and the crowd cheered.

Bagman removed his wand from his throat and turned to the champions. "There will be professors walking the perimeter of the maze so if any of you get into any trouble and can't get yourself out of it, just shoot red sparks into the air and someone will come to get you."

They all nodded and finally he turned to Harry. "Well, Mr. Potter. On the count of three, head in.

Harry stood before the entrance to the maze and waited as Bagman counted down from three and then shot off sparks from his wand.

Harry quickly strode forward and made a left at the fork in the path and walked a short ways down the hedge before he stopped and took a deep breath to calmed himself a bit. He focused on a mental image of a great black serpent, coiling and slithering. He felt the build of his parselmagic and called it forth, coiling it around him like the great black snake in his mind. Then he focused on the image of the Tri-Wizard cup.

Once he was positive he had the correct image and focus established, he hissed out _§find the Tri-Wizard cup§._

When he opened his eyes, the familiar hazy, distorted image of the great black serpent filled his vision. It had been a while since he had used this spell and he smiled at it. It was slithering in mid-air in front of him, turning it's head from side-to-side for only a moment before it began to slither down the path in the hedges and turned a corner. Harry lit a quick Lumos on the tip of his wand and hurried after it.

Every corner Harry took with caution, but after about ten minutes of encountering nothing but more bushes he began to feel an annoyed sense of disappointment. Finally, as he was making another left, trailing after his black locator snake, he felt a powerful disturbance in the magic near him. He brought his wand up higher and put a little more power into the glow on the tip of his wand to increase the light level. He could hear a clicking sort of sound growing louder as he continued to progress further. The clicking sound increased in volume and quantity – whatever was making the sound, there was more than one of them. It was also unnervingly familiar.

He turned another corner and saw white webbing stringing across the hedges and ground and many small black things moving and scurrying along the ground and climbing on the bushes.

Harry almost groaned as he called his locator snake to stop and wait for him. Baby acromantula. Each one was about the size of his palm and they already had fully formed pincers. Harry also knew that even this 'small' their poisonous venom was still nasty enough to hurt quite a bit and leave him temporarily paralyzed.

He aimed his wand and began to send out wide range slashing hexes. The blasts left his wand like five-foot long slashes of sharp magical energy that severed any spiders in his way. Unfortunately the spiders didn't exactly line up in neat little lines to be sliced up and the huge number of fist-sized spiders were quickly encroaching on him so he quickly switched tactics to an area affect blasting spell that radiated out from him at the center. He knew Tom would scold him for using such a magic intensive spell, but Harry knew he had plenty more magical energy in reserve and hopefully he could keep his attacks more focused from here on out.

The blast had easily taken out the vast majority of the spiders and most of them were now running from him. He continued down the row and stepped on several of the acromantula as he walked, smirking viciously as he felt them crunching beneath his dragon hide boots.

"Send my regards to Aragog," Harry muttered under his breath as he left the pathway filled with dead spiders behind and instructed his locator snake to keep going.

The night sky was growing darker the longer he continued to go but he felt confident that he was making good progress. The snake hadn't led him into a single dead-end the entire time, which was a promising sign that it was working correctly.

After another turn he came across a long stretch of hedge filled with a strange yellow mist. He was almost sure he'd read something about it at some point but couldn't quite place what it was. It was as if it were on the tip of his tongue, but just not there. He grumbled to himself about Barty not warning him about whatever the hell this was and cast a few detection spells with his wand to try and identify any harmful effects the mist might have.

His spells didn't turn up much. It wasn't poison. It wasn't a sedative. It wouldn't cause pain. _What the hell was it?_

He considered trying to find a way around it. His inner Slytherin was telling him that self-preservation was paramount and if he had no idea what he was up against, he should turn back. He hated the idea of relying on his Gryffindor side for anything, but in this instance, he was just too annoyed at the whole thing to go back. Plus his locator spell had been working _so well_ so far.

With a muttered _'Screw it'_, Harry took a few steps back and did a running jump into and through the mist. He felt the effects the first time his foot hit the ground, but he had a running start and his momentum pushed him forward a few more long strides before the disorientation got to be too much and he came to a total halt.

Despite the fact that his feet were planted firmly on the ground, Harry felt as if the entire world had just turned upside down. Literally. His shaggy hair and school robes were all hanging up as if the sky were down, and he felt the effects of gravity trying to pull him into the air. Part of his mind screamed that if he lifted his feet from the ground he would just go floating away, but he knew that was idiotic.

"Oh hell. Anti-gravity mist," Harry muttered to himself as his hand came up and he smacked his forehead.

Harry lifted his wand, closed his eyes and began muttering lowly under his breath. The counter to disable the spell wasn't a single spell, but rather a short chant that had to be repeated several times before it started to work. About a minute later the mist was dispersing and Harry could feel the disorienting feeling of the world turning right-side-up again and suddenly down was down and up was up. Harry heaved out a sigh, quickly followed by an annoyed huff.

A few quick strides and Harry had caught up with his locator snake, that was waiting around the corner for him. Two turns later and Harry was dodging a blast of fire from the largest and most horrendously ugly blast-ended skrewt that Harry had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

The thing was at least ten feet long and had a gigantic scorpion's tail with a stinger on the end, curled up over its back, ready to strike. What Harry could only assume was its front end, was expelling blasts of fire, and its back was covered with a hard protective shell that Harry knew was resistant to most neutral spells. He could think of a half-dozen dark spells that would rip right through it and growled out in frustration at not being able to use any of them. He found himself loudly cursing Hagrid for ever breeding the damned creatures as he dodged another blast of fire, and rolled out of the way of its tail as it came down and pierced the ground where he had been a moment before.

As he rolled on the ground he caught sight of it's unprotected underbelly and quickly aimed his wand, sending off a powerful blasting hex. The skrewt was sent flying several feet into the air from the force of the blast and ended up falling back down on its side. Harry jumped to his feet, darting back a few feet to give himself more space and began sending powerful cutting curses at the now exposed underbelly. He slashed into it again and again, causing sickly whitish gray goo to seep out of it. He nearly wretched at the stench of it and as soon as he was sure the damned thing wasn't going to get back up, he ran around it and down the hedge row after his locator snake that he had to call back to him because he'd forgotten to stop it this time.

Harry continued down the seemingly endless rows of hedge, grumbling to himself about stupid half-giants breeding stupid killer monsters when he came face to face with a sphinx. It looked for all the world to be a large lion, except instead of a lion's head, there was the face of a woman inside the large furry mane. A wide grin spread across Harry's lips. He knew he was close. The Sphinx was supposed to be guarding the inner-most access point to the center of the maze. Beyond this would be a single giant acromantula and then the cup.

He took a few cautious steps towards the sphinx and came to a stop several feet from it. It had been pacing back and forth but now came to a stop and sat down, looking at him calmly.

The feminine face smiled at him and then spoke. "You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

"Alright... I know it's not as simple as me asking you to move aside, so how about you get to the point."

"You must answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess – I let you pass. Answer wrongly – I attack. Remain silent – I will let you walk away from me unscathed."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Can I hear the riddle?"

"_First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

_Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of the middle and the end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard,_

_During the search for a hard-to-find word._

_Now string them together, and answer me this,_

_Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"_

Harry blinked and quickly started repeating the words to him in his head. Barty had warned him that the damned thing would have a riddle, but he'd had no way of knowing what it would be.

"Can you repeat it slower?" Harry asked, hesitantly.

Again she smiled and repeated the poem.

"A person in disguise," Harry muttered, "who lies... oh..." Harry chuckled. "A spy. I'm familiar with that... Alright, that's the first part. Last thing to mend, middle of middle end of... D. Okay, spy, d and... the sound often heard during the search of a hard to find world. Uh... no. Er? Spy, d, er... Spider." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. The last creature he had to face was a giant acromantula. He already _knew that._ So of course the answer to the damned riddle was 'Spider'.

"Spider," he said confidently.

The sphinx smiled more broadly, got up, stretched and moved aside. He dashed ahead and resumed following the locator snake. The spell led him to the right-hand path and Harry could see the faint glow of the Tri-Wizard cup at the end of the long path he was currently on. Part of him wanted to just make a run for it, but he knew it wouldn't be that simple. There was supposed to be a giant acromantula here damn it, and he wasn't going to get caught off –

"GAH!" Harry yelped as something fell down from above and he quickly had to roll away before a pair of giant pincers came snapping down at him.

He growled angrily at himself for being caught so easily off his own guard and quickly began throwing hexes and curses at it to distract it from its focus on him while he scrambled to put some distance between them. Once he finally felt like his footing was reliable again he threw a well aimed severing curse at one of the beasts legs. It came right off and the enormous spider roared out in angry pain. It stormed over to Harry's position and he quickly found himself being pressed into the bramble filled hedge. He used another area effect curse that blasted the beast back enough for him to try to bolt away. Unfortunately one step and he found himself falling head first into the dirt. Some evil little creeping tentacle-like vine and twined itself around his ankle and was currently digging its barbs into his skin.

Harry roared in anger and quickly aimed his wand down at the plant, freezing it and then pulling the remains off his leg. The annoying distraction had given the spider enough time to recoup and he only just barely crawled out of the way as the damn thing crashed down with it's giant pincers again. It was up and crashing down again and again. Every time he managed to shuffle a few feet to one side or the other and it was instantly upon him again. Finally he manged to get a good shot off and sent off another powerful area blast that sent it flying away from him again.

Harry staggered to his feet, feeling his magical reserves running low. All these damn high level neutral spells were draining him too fast and it was irritating. He sent off two more aimed severing curses, cutting off another two legs. He quickly ran and rolled underneath the flailing body to the opposite side and severed another pair. The monstrous spider was screeching in pain and anger and took another low swiping snap at him. He dodged it and managed one more severing curse, cutting off another leg and sending the beast crashing down to the ground. Unfortunately the ground it was crashing into was the same ground that Harry was currently crouching on.

Harry made to dodge and roared out again, cursing the tournament and Professor Sprout because he was_ sure_ that she had something to do with these damn bloody vines, as he found himself once again trapped by one of the nasty barbed plants.

The spider crashed down on top of him, and he screamed out in pain as one of its pincers sliced down along the side of his torso. He freed his wand arm, pointed his wand directly into the acromantula's head that was only feet from his own face, and sent off the most powerful non-dark blasting spell he knew. The beasts head exploded and its body became nothing but dead weight upon him.

Harry groaned miserably and felt himself collapse back into the dirt, exhausted and angry. He felt mostly annoyed at himself for being hurt so badly by something he knew was coming. He would never hear the end of it from Tom.

Oh, and acromantula bites are poisonous. Great.

With a groan, Harry began to shimmy out from underneath the beast. He sent several freezing charms at the various thorny vines that were _still_ trying to get their barby mits into him.

He finally managed to pry himself free of it and weakly stood to his feet... and promptly fell to his knees with a sharp yelp of pain.

His ankle, which was bleeding from the barbs from the thorn, also seemed to be sprained... or maybe broken. He hoped it wasn't the latter Again, growling in anger and annoyance he cast a numbing spell and spelled himself a temporary splint to support his weight. He felt the searing burn of the acromantula venom in the large bloody slash down his side as it slowly spread. His body was going a bit numb and he could feel his head getting heavy but he pushed himself past it. He could _see_ the damn cup. He wasn't going to pass out until after he'd touched the fucking thing. _Then_ they could take him to the infirmary.

He limped down the pathway, wincing at the sharp pain in his ankle, and grumbling and growling to himself under his breath. He was wobbling and weaving from side to side as he just barely clung to consciousness. Finally, just as his vision was growing dim and he was about to slip into a quiet abyss, his hand stretched out and grasped the edge of the ornate Tri-Wizard cup from the pedestal it rested upon. He and the cup fell to the ground and then vanished with a soft pop.

– –

Harry woke up with a pounding headache. He blinked several times to find nothing more than a whitish blur. It took him a moment to realize that his glasses were missing. He really needed to investigate that ritual Tom had mentioned about fixing his eyesight. He was laying on something relatively soft, but the sheets and pillow were overly starched. He heard voices and saw the blurry forms of people rushing about. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked through his shitty vision to make sense of his surroundings.

_The hospital wing. Ah. That makes sense._

"Oh, Harry!" a shrill female voice gasped from somewhere to the left and he turned his head to see a red-headed blur that he figured was Mrs. Weasley. "Oh goodness dear! We were so worried when you appeared with the cup _unconscious_!"

She continued to prattle on about all her worries but Harry wasn't particularly paying attention. He turned and looked towards his bedside table and found his glasses and his holly wand sitting there. He grabbed his glasses and by the time they were back on his face, several other people had joined Mrs. Weasley at Harry's bedside. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were there, and Harry noticed that Moody was standing against a wall on the opposite end of the hospital wing, watching him closely.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Really!" Harry said loudly as he raised a hand, trying to calm them all done.

"Fine?" a surprisingly distraught Ginny yelled. "Harry your ankle was broken and you got bit by an acromantula!"

"Broken? Shit, I didn't realize it was that bad," Harry said, grimacing. "I was hoping it was just sprained."

"Were you the one that conjured the first aid splint, Mr. Potter?" the voice of Madam Pomfrey broke into their discussion as she came up to them from where she had been standing beside another patient's bed. Harry realized suddenly that Fleur and Cedric were also in the infirmary, and each of their beds were currently surrounded by their family members.

"Huh? Oh yeah, the splint. Well it happened with only about twenty feet to go before I got to the cup so there was no way I was going to just sit there and send up sparks when I could literally _see the cup_, mere feet from me. So I cast a numbing charm and conjured the splint."

"You walked on a broken ankle?" Mrs. Weasley yelled and Madam Pomfrey gave him a very stern, disapproving glare. Harry grinned and shrugged, unapologetic.

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse, knowing _you._" Madam Pomfrey said with a heavy sigh. "That was a very impressive healers splint, Mr Potter."

"Thanks," Harry said with a grin. He glanced back over and Fleur and Cedric and nodded his head towards them. "What happened to them?"

"One of Hagrid's skrewts got Fleur," Ron said in a quiet sympathetic voice. "I heard they were nasty."

Harry scoffed. "Nasty doesn't even begin to cover it. Came across one of those myself. You know those damned things grew to be ten feet long?"

Ron's face paled.

"We don't actually know _what_ happened to Cedric yet. He's still unconscious. Viktor came upon him and found the hedge trying to eat him. He sent up sparks to alert the professors," Hermione said quietly as she looked over at a very concerned Mr. And Mrs. Diggory who were standing at Cedric's bedside.

"So did Krum at least finish?" Harry asked.

"Oh yeah, he made it to the center. They'd returned the cup portkey to the middle by then and he appeared with it thinking that he'd won," Ron said. "But you had shown up first with it, and it took him nearly thirty minutes longer than it took you."

Harry smirked and let himself fall back down onto his bed. "So Poppy, how long will it take for you to fix me up this time?" Harry said as he stretched his arms out and then folded them behind his head.

Madam Pomfrey's eyes went wide and it looked like there was a battle going on inside her over whether to be annoyed, angered, or amused as his use of her first name. The Weasleys and Hermione all looked stunned, except for Ginny, who apparently found it funny.

"I will be keeping you here until tomorrow evening, at the earliest. I've removed all of the taratal barbs from your legs and ankle and your broken ankle should be mended by morning, but it will probably be tender for several days. I've administered the antidote for the acromantula venom, but I want to keep an eye on you to make sure you aren't suffering any adverse effects from your bite," Madam Pomfrey said after having decided to ignore his earlier use of her first name.

Harry frowned at this and sat back up. His eyes darted over to 'Moody' who was still standing towards the back of the hospital wing, clearly listening in.

"Are you sure you can't cut me a break and let me out after lunch if I promise to stay in bed?" Harry asked taking on his most innocent look with the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

Pomfrey's eyes narrowed and she rose a single eyebrow at him as if silently asking 'Do you really think that's going to work on _me?'_.

"No," she said.

"_Pleeeease?"_

Ron snorted and Ginny had to put her hand up to stifle her snickers.

"No means _no_ Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said looking stern.

Harry huffed out in frustration and rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Hey Ron, do you think you could grab my bag from the dorm? It's sitting on my bed and it's got some stuff in it I need."

"You are to _rest _Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said in a scolding tone.

"I _will! _I promise! But sometimes I can't get to sleep without reading for a while first, alright? Just books, that's still resting, right?"

Pomfrey frowned but sighed. "Fine."

Harry turned his attention back to Ron and gave him pleading eyes.

"Er, sure mate. You want me to go get it now?"

"Nah, just if you can make sure I've got it before you go to bed, I'll be fine."

"Alright."

The group went on to talk for a bit longer. Bill showed up several minutes later. He spent a few minutes with Harry showing his proper concern, and congratulating Harry on his win, but Harry could see the man's concerned eyes frequently darting over to Fleur's bed and Harry couldn't help but smirk. Bill was only able to stick around for a short while before he had to leave in order to get back home for work the next morning. Mrs. Weasley reluctantly left with him since it was getting quite late. At some point Cedric woke up, but Harry wasn't able to hear whatever it was that he'd told his parents and Madam Pomfrey about what had knocked him out. Whatever it was, Cedric looked pretty embarrassed by it, so Harry figured he'd let the guy save face and _not_ ask.

Ron was enthralled by Harry's tale of the various nasty things he went up against and had Harry describing every bit of it even though everyone in the stands had gotten a play-by-play announced by Ludo Bagman thanks to some sort of magical surveillance system that allowed him and the headmaster's to watch and judge the champions. Apparently hearing it from Harry himself made it more interesting, plus Bagman hadn't caught everything. The visibility wasn't always best and they had trouble focusing it on more than one or two champions at once. Harry asked how it was that no one knew what happened to Cedric and Ginny said that whatever happened to him happened at the same time that Harry was fighting against the acromantula and people were a bit distracted.

Hermione told Harry that he'd gotten a full fifty points for completing the task first, and in a record-breaking time. They'd asked him how he managed to make it through so fast, and Hermione pointed out that Bagman hadn't mentioned him hitting a single dead-end. Harry had whispered to Ron and Hermione that he'd used the same spell he used to find Ginny in the second task. Ron didn't seem to remember what spell exactly Harry was referring to, but Hermione seemed to catch on, remembering that it was a parselmagic spell, and changed the subject.

Obviously since Harry had been in first place already, finishing first in the maze meant he'd won the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The crowd had roared and cheered for him as he was levitated and carried off the field and back to Hogwarts for medical treatment.

Madam Pomfrey came in and told them all that her patient needed his rest so they all bid him farewell and left. Ron told Harry he'd be back right away with his bag and disappeared out the door.

'Moody' came over and Harry was surprised that the man had stuck around that long.

"It was my understanding that you had an appointment tomorrow afternoon," Moody said quietly under his voice as he came to stand beside Harry's bed.

"Yes and I still intend to keep it. That's why I'm having Ron bring me my bag," Harry mumbled, keeping one eye trained on Madam Pomfrey who was currently attending to Fleur and working to shoo her sister and parents away.

"Will that be possible?" 'Moody' asked.

"Of course it will. As long as I can use T-_our Lord's_ time-turner, I can leave and get back here without anyone ever even realizing I was gone," Harry hissed quietly.

"Time-turner?" Moody said, looking surprised.

"Yeah, that's how I've been getting away so often for the last few months."

What was left of Moody's eyebrows rose high into his forehead but he didn't say anything else.

"Do you need my assistance getting out?" he asked instead.

"If you can come by around lunch time and leave the door open so I can slip out under my cloak that would help," Harry whispered quickly.

'Moody' nodded his head before standing taller and leaving.

A couple minutes later Ron returned with Harry's bag and then bid his friend goodnight. Harry quickly checked through his bag and confirmed that the Map, the cloak and his cypress wand were inside inside the security pouch in the bottom.

Out of habit Harry's right hand slipped up his left sleeve of his simple white hospital wing robes and fingered the leather cuff strapped there. He was glad that Pomfrey hadn't felt the need to remove it when she'd spelled off his torn and bloodied clothing to address his wounds. He probably would have had a bit of a panic attack if he'd woken up and felt it missing.

Satisfied that he had everything he needed he resecured his things inside his bag, and pulled out a book for the sake of keeping up his story for the healer. He only read for about twenty minutes before he felt his exhaustion totally kicking his ass and he set the book and his glasses back onto his night stand and settled down into his bed.

–


	30. Chapter 30

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

–

Harry was woken by Ginny and Hermione showing up with food the next morning. Fleur was allowed to leave on the conditions that she was being transferred into the care of her family's healer. Her burns had been bad and were only partially healed but her family wanted to get her back to France. Harry bid her a fond farewell and wondered if he'd ever see her again.

Hermione and Ginny were eventually joined by Ron but none of them could stay very long since they all had exams to attend. Harry was a little annoyed that he was missing his transfiguration exam, even if he didn't need to take it. As soon as he was done with lunch Harry pulled out his bag and made it look like he was sorting through books to read. He wrapped his entire bag up in his invisibility cloak, making it disappear entirely. He sat and waited for Moody to show up and open the door to the hospital wing and as soon as the man did, Harry got up, telling Madam Pomfrey he was just going to use the loo.

He disappeared inside, wrapped the invisibility cloak around himself, activated the map and smiled at the second Harry Potter dot currently standing directly outside the door to the bathroom. His future self must have followed 'Moody' into the hospital wing.

Relieved that he wasn't going to have any trouble with his plan he opened the door to the loo and quickly slipped out. His other self slipped inside and Harry quickly hurried out of the hospital wing while his other self stepped out of the bathroom, sans invisibility cloak and returning to his bed. Harry caught a glimpse of himself as he darted out the open door and felt a shudder down his spine. It was never wise to see yourself when messing with time. There were horror stories about people going mad from it. Harry really wasn't sure _why_ a person would go crazy from seeing themselves, especially if they completely understood why and how, and were even _expecting it_, but he still felt a weird quiver in his magic so he figured that there was probably just some weird magical law about time-travel that just made the whole thing a big no-no.

Twenty minutes later and Harry was limping his way up the stairs in the manor and feeling quite a bit out of breath. He had to admit that the damn spider's poison had left him feeling a bit weak. Just as Harry reached the top of the stairs, he heard the door to the study open and there stood a scowling Tom. Harry ducked his head instinctively but looked up at the Dark Lord through his long eyelashes with an innocent smile.

"Stupid foolish brat."

"I won, didn't I?"

"Have you seen what the papers are saying about the task yet?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't thought about that. "No, but it's probably all lies."

"It damn well better be," Tom growled.

Harry continued to make his way over to Tom, trying his best to minimize his limp but Tom noticed.

"Well they clearly got one thing right. You broke your ankle," Tom said crossing his arms over his chest and giving Harry an angry glare.

"S'not broken anymore. Promfrey healed it up rather nicely. It's only a little sore now," Harry mumbled defensively and looking away.

Tom scoffed and walked over, bending low and wrapping his arm under Harry's armpit and supporting his weight as he led Harry into the study. Harry was rather startled by the gesture but greedily leaned into the older man's side, soaking up the soft warmth of such physical contact. Once inside, Tom pulled out his wand and directed his chair out from behind his desk to the open section of the room and then transfiguring it into a couch. He sat down and pulled Harry onto it, laying him down with his head in Tom's lap. They had only assumed this position on the chaise lounge in the library before, but the arrangement was familiar enough that Harry quickly eased into a comfortable position and raised his injured ankle up onto the opposite armrest of the couch. He sighed happily, enjoying the arrangement greatly.

As was usual, Tom's fingers instantly found their way into Harry's hair.

"You worried me, do you realize that you stupid boy?" Tom said coldly, but Harry could hear something deeper behind the words and they caused a strange warm fluttering to fill his chest.

"Sorry," Harry apologized quietly, but he couldn't refrain from smiling through the words. "It wasn't all that bad. I'm sure that whatever the Prophet said was grossly exaggerated."

"It said that you managed to break your ankle after a battle with a giant acromantula that managed to bite you and then fall _on you_, crushing you beneath it."

"It didn't bite me so much as one of it's pincers scratched down my side while it fell _beside_ me," Harry said.

"I'm sure," Tom said sarcastically and Harry could tell from the tone of the man's voice that he was probably rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't of had so much trouble with the stupid spider if it weren't for the damn aggressive weeds in the hedges. The taratal vines grabbed hold of my ankles when I was busy shooting off the acromantula's legs and dug their nasty little barbs in. Tripped me and made me lose my opportunity to properly dodge. I had everything under control until that. It was a stupid little mistake and I know I was an idiot for not realizing what was happening sooner, but I still made it out of there fine in the end and I won with a record breaking time. I completed that maze faster than anyone ever has in the history of the Tri-Wizard tournament. I think that's gotta be worth something."

"It said that you appeared at the entrance to the maze unconscious and hanging onto the cup portkey," Tom said accusingly. "Making it out unconscious is hardly making it out _fine in the end._"

"I knew the cup was a portkey that would get me to the judges and thus,_ a healer._ I think I did pretty good. I could have passed out before getting to the blasted cup and then the stupid taratal vines would have tried to pull me into the hedge and eat me or something."

Tom made a displeased growling noise in his throat and Harry felt Tom's fingers tighten in his hair for a moment. Finally he heaved a sigh and resumed gently massaging Harry's scalp.

"We have things to discuss."

"Right," Harry said nodding his head slightly in the other wizard's lap.

"Did you ever come up with an alias to use for the summer?"

"I did, actually!" Harry said, his voice perking up. "I was thinking Evan Harris."

"Evan Harris?"

"Yeah, with the last name as Harris, if anyone slips up and calls me Harry in the presence of any of the Death Eaters, they'll think that I was just called 'Harris' and not pay it any mind."

"That's good... I like it. And Harris is a very common name. There are a number of pureblood lines with that name. None are very well connected or have any significant standing, but that only makes it easier for you to disappear into the background without any proper proof of your identify. Very good, Harry."

Harry grinned widely at the praise.

"And Evan?" Tom asked.

"My mum's maiden name. Evans. It isn't too obvious is it?"

"Obvious would have been you going by James or Jim."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I figured out right away that using my middle name was out. When Evan occurred to me, I realized I really liked the idea. I mean, me liking it doesn't even really have much to do with it being based of my mum's last name – I actually just really like the name. I think I can be comfortable with going by that name."

"Mm," Tom made an acknowledging sound in his throat and nodded his head. "Evan... I believe I can get accustomed to that. You realize that I will have to use the name most of the summer, correct?"

"Oh yeah, I get that. I think I prefer it. I kind of like the idea of not being Harry Potter for a while."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean... Harry Potter isn't really even _me. Harry Potter_ is the Boy-Who-Lived. The Gryffindor Golden-boy. Dumbledore's man. I hate that. I mean, it's like Harry Potter is a character in the wizarding world's favorite fairy tale and they all have these irritating expectations about me. All that rubbish in the tabloids is just another level to it. People don't give a damn about _me_, they just want to know more about the story of _Harry-bloody-Potter_. I'm sick of Harry Potter," Harry finished with a disgruntled sigh.

"And you think becoming Evan Harris will help?"

"Did becoming Voldemort and throwing away Tom Riddle help you?"

"Point taken. I suppose I cannot fault you for wanting to create a new identity for yourself. Would you prefer me to start using Evan even in private now?"

"You can call me whatever you like in private. I really don't mind what you want to call me. You know _me_. You know the real me, so when you call me Harry I'm not Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. I'm just... Harry. But I think it might be nice to be Evan too... In any case, you let me call you Tom, and I love that you let me do that. It just feels... significant," Harry said trailing off in a whisper. "So whatever you like calling me, is fine with me."

There was silence for a minute and Harry wondered if he'd made a mistake voicing his inner thoughts.

"It is significant, pet," Tom said finally and Harry smiled at both the admission as well as the pet name. Tom was doing it more and more lately and Harry found that he really loved it.

They were quiet for another long minute before Tom spoke again. "Tonight I will be calling the Death Eaters at midnight. I would like for you to be here an hour early. Their marks will direct them into the entry hall since that is the only place within the manor wards that will accept their apparition travel. I want you to help guide them into the ballroom as they arrive."

"Alright," Harry agreed easily.

Tom pulled out his wand and with a flick a box floated over from the desk and levitated in the air before them. Tom removed his hands and Harry got the message that he was to sit up. He shifted his legs down and sat up beside Tom on the couch. The older man leaned back and his arm stretched along the back of the couch, stretching out behind Harry. Harry plucked the box from the air and opened it. Inside were what appeared to be fine pitch black robes. He pulled them out and found a chrome silver mask with etched designs into it, laying on the bottom.

He felt his heart stop for a moment before suddenly speeding up tremendously.

It was his Death Eater uniform.

The mask was different though. It was unlike any Death Eater mask he had ever seen before. Instead of a full face mask, it was a Venetian half mask. It only covered the upper half of his face and had a ridge for his nose. It was also silver instead of the bone white masks that he had seen at the Quidditch World Cup the previous fall.

Granted, every Death Eater mask he had seen was slightly unique, but they had all been full-face masks, and they had all been white. He'd never seen one that only covered part of the face. This would leave the lower half of his face completely unobstructed.

"It's beautiful," Harry whispered without even realizing he'd spoken. He looked up and met Tom's eyes. "It's different though."

"You are not merely a Death Eater. Even _Evan Harris_ will not simply be one of my followers," Tom said.

Harry frowned, not quite understanding. "What do you mean?"

"You are to be known as my personal assistant and my... _apprentice_. The others will be made aware of your special position and rank tonight at the gathering."

Harry gaped at him, too stunned and overwhelmed to know what to say.

"You have done much for me Harry. Your services, loyalty, and sacrifices _will_ be properly rewarded."

"Just being here with you is reward enough," Harry whispered shaking his head.

"And that is just one more reason..." Tom trailed off as his free hand came up and brushed lightly against Harry's cheek. Harry's eyes closed and he tilted his head into the touch, sighing contently.

"Tonight, my return will finally be known by all of my followers. Tonight I take the first step towards rebuilding my army, taking control of the magical world, and working towards my task, and _you_ will be at my side."

Harry let out a shuddering breath as he tried to wrap his mind around that full enormity of that statement and what all it might mean. It filled him with such a powerful emotion and he wanted nothing more than to kiss one of those long slender fingers that were currently caressing the side of his face.

Instead, the next thing either of them knew, their lips were pressed together and they were both grabbing and pulling at each other, trying to get closer.

Heavy shallow breaths, swollen lips, marked flesh and tousled hair was followed by Harry feeling Tom's strong hands grabbing hold of his hips and pulling him up to straddle the older wizard's lap as he remained seated on the couch. Gasping breaths, keening whimpers, and long low moans escaped them as the two began to desperately writhe against each other. Robes were suddenly being desperately removed and buttons were undone as frustrating cloth was shoved to the side. Whispered pleas and names were panted and rhythmically called out as flesh was grasped in a warm, long-fingered hand, and hair was roughly pulled by the other.

Through his heavy lust-filled haze Harry managed to dig into Tom's trousers, grasping hold of the other man's length for the first time. The noise that escaped Tom's throat was euphoria to the younger wizard's ears and he knew in that moment that he could live his entire life with no other goal than to hear that sound again and again and be a happy man.

Harry came hard, panting heated breaths against Tom's neck and holding onto the older wizard as if his life depended on it. The other man quickly followed, muffling his own pleasured grunts in Harry's hair. He had never felt so drawn to one person; so in-tune and connected to one person before. So understood and so _cared for. This man cared about him. Worried about him when he was hurt. This man wanted Harry to stand by his side while he conquered the world._

As he held onto Tom, slowly coming down from his euphoric high one thought kept echoing through Harry's mind and it almost gave him pause.

_I'm falling in love with you, Tom..._

But he couldn't say it. He couldn't say the words because he was just too afraid. Too afraid of breaking his perfect weird thing with Tom. He wouldn't be the one to screw this up. He _needed_ it too badly. He needed Tom. So instead he clung to Tom harder, slowly letting his breathing calm to a normal rate.

The two eventually parted and Tom spelled them clean with a simple flick of his wand. They spent a bit more time discussing plans for that evening and it was decided that Harry would leave his Death Eater robes in the manor. He would put them on when he arrived that evening.

Tom helped Harry down the stairs, frowning at Harry's limp and eventually spelling Harry's ankle numb for him. He escorted Harry to the time-turner room and they shared one last passionate kiss before Harry disappeared inside.

– –

Harry was greatly relieved to find himself released from Madam Pomfrey's evil clutches that even for dinner. His limp was almost gone now and he didn't feel nearly as light-headed as he had earlier. A few extra hours and a few more potions had done him a world of good.

He walked into the Great Hall and the room fell silent for a moment before the entirety of the Gryffindor table began to applaud. Harry stood there, blinking in shock for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell this was all about. The Ravenclaws applauded and Harry saw the Hufflepuffs grudgingly joining in. The Slytherins were clearly above such actions, and in fact, several were sneering at him. It finally registered in Harry's brain that this was because he was now the Tri-Wizard Champion and had won the cup for Hogwarts.

He couldn't help but snort at the show of support the school was now so enthusiastic to show him when they had all utterly shunned him when he had first been forced into this ridiculous circus. He made his way over and sat down on an open bench beside Hermione and across from Ron. Ginny came over and sat down on Harry's other side, beaming at him enthusiastically.

"So Madam Pomfrey let you out early?" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry just looked at them all slightly blankly, still a bit unsure how to react to all of this. "Er, yeah. She let me out." He glanced around at the eager Gryffindors who were all looking at him with a level of pride and smugness that made him want to curse the lot of them.

"So Harry, is it true that you fought against a giant acromantula?" Seamus Finnigan exclaimed from down the table.

"Yes..." Harry said slowly, looking at Seamus funny.

"Is it true that you killed it?"

"Yes, I killed it," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"How?" Seamus exclaimed.

"I stuck my wand into its head and hit it with a point-blank blasting curse," Harry said slowly in a tone one would use explaining something to a child.

"You got close enough to stick your wand in it's head?" Dean yelped.

"Well this was after I'd cut off most of its legs and it fell to the ground."

"You cut off its legs?" a fifth year down the table gasped. "How?"

"A severing curse," Harry said in a very slow, condescending tone."

"What – _diffindo?_ _Diffindo_ cut through an acromantula's legs?" Another older Gryffindor said.

"No, not _diffindo_."

"What then?" the same boy asked, as if he couldn't imagine what other spell Harry could has possibly used.

"Uh, I think I used _concisus_ on the spider's legs," Harry said with an exasperated sigh. This was getting old. He wondered if he'd even be able to eat.

"How the bloody hell did you learn _concisus?"_ the boy exclaimed.

"Language!" a female 6th year prefect scolded him, but then looked at Harry with obvious curiosity.

"Er... a book?" Harry asked giving them a look that said 'duh'.

This continued for several annoyingly long minutes before Harry finally had enough and made it none-too-clear that he would rather be eating right then than speaking to any of them, any longer.

As the meal drew to a close Dumbledore stood from his chair and called the hall to attention.

"Attention, everyone! As I'm sure you are all well aware of now, the final task of the Tri-Wazard Tournament was held yesterday evening. Three of the four champions had to be taken directly to the hospital wing after exiting the maze, so no proper awards ceremony could be held during the actual event. And while young Miss Delacour is now resting at home in France, we do have the other three competitors here with us tonight, so we ought to take advantage of what we've got.

"Prior to last nights task, Mr. Harry Potter was in first place with a total of 88 points, Cedric Diggory was in second place with 76 points, Viktor Krum was in third place with 72 points, and finally Fleur Delacour was in fourth place with 60 points. Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory were both rendered unconscious and defeated by the foes within the maze and received ten points each for surviving for as long as they did, despite the dangers. Viktor Krum survived the maze and escaped with minimal injury and through the use of impressive spellwork. For his efforts the judges awarded him 40 points.

"And finally, finishing in first place after most skillfully dispatching a nest of young acromantula, a full-grown blast ended skrewt, anti-gravity mist, solving the sphinx's puzzle, and battling a full-grown giant acromantula, and coming to the end of the maze in _record breaking time_, Harry Potter was awarded a full 50 points!"

The hall burst into cheers, although Harry once again noted the lack of any enthusiasm from the Slytherin table. Although now that he looked closely he realized that Draco was looking at him with a rather odd look. It certainly wasn't loathing, that was for sure. Harry still didn't know if Draco had told his father about Harry's switch in loyalties, although he supposed he might learn about that tonight.

"Thus the standing leaves Mr. Harry Potter in first place with 138 points and the winner of the Tri-Wizard Cup!" Dumbledore called out, grinning and twinkling madly as the hall erupted in another round of cheering.

Harry suddenly realized he was being beckoned up to the front and gave a grudging sigh before standing up and plastering a gracious smile on his face. He walked to the head table and was presented with the cup and a heavy sack full of galleons from Ludo Bagman who seemed to by eyeing the money bag with hungry eyes. Harry held it tightly and kept his eye trained on the man. He also decided to make sure he counted the money before he handed it over to the Weasley twins.

Harry thanked the headmasters and Ludo Bagman and was grateful when he was able to escape the spotlight without having to do some sort of public speaking.

Harry left the Great Hall feeling burned out and irritated with all his new-found fans. Their two-faced-ness only stoked his anger. Did they honestly think that he would so easily forget how they had all treated him when this whole mess had started?

He stayed in the common room for as long as he could stand, but the admirers just kept coming and he eventually escaped up to his dorm room, claiming fatigue from his injuries. At 10:30 Harry secured his curtains around his bed and slipped down into the common room under his cloak. Invisibly slipping out the portrait hole without anyone noticing it opening and then closing was accomplished with a few silent notice-me-not charms.

He made his way down through the school, across the grounds and it was just after 11pm when he activated his portkey and reappeared in Riddle Manor. He could feel Tom's magical energy emanating from the ballroom on the first floor but he went upstairs to the study to collect his robes and mask first. He entered the room and picked the box up off a side table where he'd left it earlier in the day. He smiled to himself at the memory of their earlier escapades and had to squish the images out of his mind as he felt a shudder of desire surge through him. He slipped on the black robes and then slipped the glamor ring onto his left index finger and felt as the illusion took over his form. It was a strange magical effect. The illusion was semi-corporeal. He could _feel_ the changes if he touched his face. He could even run his hands through the long blond hair that now hung from his head. But since he was keyed into his own appearance, if he looked in a mirror, he only saw his normal reflection staring back at him.

Finally he reached down into the bottom of the box and pulled out the silver-chrome half-mask and held it in his hands. It was really quite beautiful. He thought so at least. It had some simple flowing lines etched into its flawless metal surface from each side of the bridge of his nose up over his eyebrows.

Harry conjured a standing mirror with a flick of his cypress wand – his holly wand was carefully stowed inside his bag behind Tom's desk – and he came to stand before the mirror. Slowly, Harry rose the mask and applied it to his face. The masks had a magical sort of sticking charm applied to them that would prevent them being removed by anyone other than the wizard themselves, and the Dark Lord, so all he had to do was place it there and it was secured.

He stared into the mirror, mesmerized by what he saw there. He was still seeing himself, rather than his blond glamored appearance. After a moment of looking at himself in the mirror he pulled the hood of his fine black cloak up over his head, shrouding his face in darkness. The light caught off the chrome mask though, and made it that much more ethereal to see.

He shuddered in perverse pleasure at the sight. He felt powerful and dangerous. He felt like a force to be reckoned with. A force to be feared.

Harry made his way down the stairs and straight to the ballroom. Tom was there – or rather, _Voldemort_ was there. He had already transformed and was standing there in the center of the room in all of his bone-white, hairless and scaled, serpentine glory. The man always felt overwhelming with parselmagic in this form and Harry felt himself grow slightly lightheaded from the power. It was intoxicating and he felt the most insane urge to kiss the man.

He was endlessly relieved that he was still able to be attracted to the man, even in this form, although it did make him wonder if there was something _wrong_ with him. Because – _honestly_ – Voldemort did appear entirely monstrous and frightening like this. There was nothing about him that should be considered attractive by anyone who was sane. Well, maybe his power. But being attracted to his power wasn't quite the same. Harry still felt attracted to _him_. To Voldemort. To Tom. Harry really couldn't find any logical way to describe what he was feeling, so he gave it up as a bad job and shoved the thoughts from his mind.

Tom was distracted with preparing for the gathering. He'd acquired two more house elves in the last week and they had been working with Mixey to get the manor in spotless condition, and had begun to work their way through the grounds. But that would be a lengthy and on-going process, and it wasn't like any of the Death Eaters would be seeing the grounds tonight anyway.

Harry stood in the ballroom, observing and lending aid whenever Voldemort required it. The Dark Lord spoke, mostly to himself, as he planned over certain things aloud, and Harry added in his opinions when it seemed appropriate. Voldemort didn't give much outward hint to it, but Harry could tell that the Dark Lord appreciated him being there.

Barty arrived at 11:30pm and by 11:45 he had returned entirely to himself and completely discarded the 'Moody' persona and all of it's paraphernalia. He had been confused as to who Harry was and it took Harry a moment before he remembered he had the glamor ring on. He chuckled and keyed Barty into his ring allowing the other man to see his true self. Voldemort also took that opportunity to inform Barty that Harry would be known as Evan Harris from here on out in the presence of any other Death Eaters.

At 11:50 Voldemort drew his yew wand and pressed it to Barty's left forearm, calling his Death Eaters to him for the first time since his return. Barty's flinched minutely and Harry could see beads of sweat upon his brow from pain, but the main smirked triumphantly despite it. Harry felt the leather cuff on his left arm warm up and was suddenly filled with an image of the manor's entry hall. He gasped a bit in surprise but then grinned widely up at Voldemort, who was secretly smirking right at him.

Harry hadn't been sure if his cuff portkey would really be activated along with all of the other normal marks, but found he really liked the idea that it did.

Harry knew what his expected task was and with a quick bow of his head he left the ballroom to wait in the entry hall to greet the Death Eaters as they arrived.

Harry stood there, leaning casually against the archway that lead from the entry hall to the long hall that lead to the ballroom. A few minutes passed before the first sound of apparition popped into the entry hall. The man standing there was already dressed in black Death Eater robes and a white full-face mask that had dark lines carved into it giving the shape the cheek bones and upper teeth of a skull. The person blinked at him in surprise and Harry gave the man a curt nod.

A moment later they were joined by another man. This one's mask was decorated in a fashion that reminded Harry of the restraint masks that were used in muggle asylums with only a small hole for the mouth filled with vertical lines to prevent anything large from entering it. Again, Harry gave the masked man a curt nod as he looked at Harry with a sign of surprise. The two men then looked at each other for the briefest of moment, silently acknowledging each other.

A second later the entry hall was filled with another two pops and two more black robed figures were suddenly there. Again, each one had a unique mask as their only distinguishing feature.

"The entry hall will get crowded quickly, you may start making your way towards the ballroom," Harry said suddenly, causing all of the men to focus on him. There was another pop and a fifth man entered the room. Harry jerked his head towards the archway. "Through there, to the left, down to the end and through the large double-doors. I'm sure you all will recognize the magical signature enough to know where to go."

The group shared a look before silently walking past Harry and through the archway.

After another five had gathered Harry repeated his instructions, sending them on their way. Six more after that arrived almost at the same time and he sent them to follow the last batch. Four more a moment later, and then an additional seven filled the entry hall in the span of ten seconds. Harry was glad he was clearing out the entry hall as fast as he was or else people would have started falling over each other. More and more came and he was impressed by the turnout, but these people _had_ had months of warning.

Finally, at 12:05, Harry called one of the new house elves, a young male named Kibby and had him stay there for any who arrived especially late. He suspected Snape would be the only one he would encounter. Anyone stupid enough to be list late wouldn't be showing up at all. Harry briskly strode down the hall and entered the ballroom.

Voldemort had erected himself an elaborately molded silver, emerald and malachite throne atop a stone dais. As Harry walked in, what looked to be the last of the procession was crawling back from the Dark Lord on their knees and then standing to their feet.

_Kissing his robes_, Harry realized suddenly. He wondered if he should do it too. Tom hadn't mentioned any such thing, and he didn't mind doing it in the least...

"Ah, my dear Harrissss... come here and join uss," Voldemort said inclining his head and showing the barest hint of an upturned mouth. A small smirk stole its way onto Harry's lips but he mastered his expression and briskly walked across the large space to stand beside Voldemort and knelt down.

"My Lord," Harry said with honest reverence in his voice and a bow of his head.

"Stand, Harrissss and join my other Death Eaterss. You rightful spot is in the front row."

Harry quickly stood and walked over to stand in an opening towards the center of the smaller line that made up the front row. Behind it was a wider curved line that was extending all around Voldemort in a large semi-circle. Harry noticed out of the corner of his left eye that long platinum blond wisps were escaping the black hood of the man beside him and smirked to himself having a pretty good idea of exactly who he was standing beside.

Slowly, Voldemort stood to his feet and stepped down off the dais as he swept the crowd with his piercing red eyes. "Twenty-seven..." he began in a deadly quiet voice. "Twenty-seven of my followers who remained faithful and returned to me when called."

He paused and narrowed his eyes at many of those in the crowd. "Or have you? You have all returned to me now that I am restored to my full power, but not _one_ of you sought me out!" He spat in an quiet angry hiss. "Thirteen yearsss, I was left to wander and not one of you came to my aid..." his voice trailed off and Harry could feel a shudder of fear run through the crowd and he felt a shudder of excitement and eager anticipation crawl up his spine.

"Please, my Lord! Forgive us!" one man from the front row called out as he threw himself onto the floor at the Dark Lord's feet.

"Forgive?" Voldemort's voice went high and angry and his wand was out faster than the eye could register. The next few seconds was filled with the tortured wailing of the masked man's screams as the Dark Lord cast a crucio on him.

Harry realized his voice had become fast and shallow with excitement and a mad grin had spread across his lips as he watched the man writhe, and felt Voldemort's powerful, intoxicating magic, fill the room with such a sudden fervor. The screaming ceased and Harry quickly blinked and masked away his emotions, trying to force himself under control.

"Forgive?" Voldemort hissed in a deadly whisper, speaking into the suddenly thick silence. "For now I may forgive but I will not forget," he spat. "Thirteen years you all lived comfortable lives after publicly denying your allegiance to me. Pleading coercion, mind control, and innocence. You spent your lives in comfort, hiding amongst our enemies and watching as they slowly destroyed our world with their ignorant philosophies and morals. All the while, I was left as little more than a specter, trapped and unable to save myself."

Suddenly the door opened and several heads turned to look at it out of instinct. Harry was sure that many of them were also curious to see who had the gall to show up several minutes late.

"Ah, Severus," Voldemort said, raising a single hand and beckoning Snape forward.

Snape took several steps forward and fell to one knee and bowing his head. "My Lord."

"Rise, Severus," Voldemort said and Snape stood to his feet, several feet from the Dark Lord. "I am to assume that all went as planned?"

"Yes, my Lord. It was just as you anticipated."

"Good. Go to the front line."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said again as he bowed his head briefly and took a few steps back until he came to stand in a space cleared to Harry's right side.

"Please, my Lord!" the Death Eater directly to Harry's left who he was now _positive_ was Lucius Malfoy, said. "We all want to know. How did this miracle come to pass? What happened to you and where have you been all these long years?"

"Where have I been?" Voldemort sneered quietly. "I have been but an echo of my former self. Stripped of my body and my power. Capable of nothing more than possessing the simple creatures I encountered. I whiled away months and then years in a dark little hole, deep in the Albanian forests. Unable to wield a wand or perform the magic necessary to restore myself, I waited. Waited and hoped for one of my faithful followers to seek me out, but none came." Voldemort's hard cold eyes swept the group again with angry accusation burning through them.

"Why, I asked myself, would none return to my side? Surely they knew better than to actually believe me gone. My followers, who knew of the enumerable steps I had taken to guarantee my continued existence. I, who have gone further on the path to immortality than any other before me! Surely they knew better than to think me gone?

"If not that, than perhaps they had chosen to side with my enemies? To stand at the side of the Light sided sycophants? Perhaps they chose to stand with _Dumbledore?_"

At this Harry could feel an aura of disagreement and several shifted as if they wished to argue against the assumption, but did not have the guts or the idiocy to speak out of turn..

"Than perhaps they believed that I had actually been vanquished? Destroyed by the child hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived?" Voldemort continued on, glaring at the gathered men with narrowed eyes.

"Do you all wish to know what actually took place that night, more than thirteen years ago?" He asked raising a single hairless eyebrow, questioningly. The group shifted and murmured very quietly under their voices, but none spoke above a whisper.

"It was the magic of dear Lily Potter that did it," He said in a soft voice and Harry saw Voldemort's eyes travel to Snape. "It was requested that I allow Lily Potter to live. It was a request that I saw no reason to deny since the man who requested it had served me well and done me a tremendous service. So when I went to the Potter's home that night, I easily dispatched of James Potter and then followed Lily Potter up to the young Harry's nursery. I gave the woman the option to flee. She did not need to die, and I did not wish to kill her. Little did I know, this would be my final downfall. You see, young, innocent, _Light_, Lily Potter was secretly a practitioner of the Blood Magics and had enacted a pact with ancient magics I had not anticipated.

"When Lily refused to move aside and died by my hand when it was not necessary, she sacrificed her life in exchange for her son's. It created a protection powerful enough to deflect the majority of the force behind my killing curse. Young, fifteen month old Harry Potter was merely scarred while my very soul was ripped from my body and cast to the abyss. However it was clear that at least one of my experiments into the nature of immortality had worked because I was not dead, when I surely should have been. So you see, my followers, Harry Potter did not _vanquish_ me. He did _nothing._ He was merely a baby, and nothing more. It was Lily Potter who brought about my temporary fall, and she is _dead."_

Harry was surprised by how utterly unaffected he was by listening to these words spoken to such a crowd, but it was clear by the short moment when he and Voldemort's eyes locked, that the Dark Lord actually harbored the briefest concern for Harry. The concern behind the man's eyes would have gone unseen by anyone else, but Harry saw it, and he returned a soft, reassuring smile that was banished a moment later behind a blank mask.

Voldemort instantly continued, refocusing on his gathered Death Eaters. "_The Boy-Who-Lived_ is a fairytale. He is a fantasy character, created by the Light, and told to their children as a bedtime story to give them false hope. He does not exist. Some of you are aware that there was a prophecy that I had been pursuing in regards to the Potters. They had gone into hiding and were under Dumbledore's protection because a Seer had claimed that their child would be born with the power to vanquish me."

He paused and the room shifted with anxious anticipation.

"It was all a lie," Voldemort sneered. "The entire thing was concocted by Dumbledore in an elaborate plan to try and have me destroy myself. The Prophecy claiming my fall at the hands of Harry Potter _is a lie."_

Hushed murmurs broke out but were instantly silenced with a sharp look from the Dark Lord.

"What of Harry Potter, my Lord?" Lucius asked, and Harry could detect that there was something _more_ to that question than was actually spoken. Snape glanced past Harry's position, and looking towards Lucius Malfoy for a moment before looking forward again. Harry knew that neither of them knew who he was and he fought to keep a smirk off his l lips.

"Ah, yes. _Potter,_" Voldemort began slowly. "It is good that you ask, Lucius. This is a matter that I feel is of the utmost importance to discuss with you all tonight. Harry Potter," he began slowly, leaving a pause for dramatic effect, "is _not to be touched. _Under no circumstances should any of you approach him. Under no circumstances should any of you _attack_ him. I have plans already set in motion regarding Harry Potter and I do not want any of you messing them up by interfering.

"Should I, at any point, learn that one of you was responsible for harming or attacking Potter, without my direct instruction, you will be punished _most severely," _Voldemort hissed threateningly and his eyes flared with a bright flash of blood red. The gathered crowd shuddered.

"Now back to more pressing matters. As you can all see, I have been back for some time now. I have been making preparations slowly and quietly. My miraculous return, as you asked, dear Lucius, is the result of three faithful followers. Wormtail, step forward!"

Wormtail flinched from his place at the far end of the first row and took a few quivering steps forward as he bowed his head.

"Wormtail was the only one of you to seek me out. He came to me, finding me as I drifted deep in the forests of Albania. It was through his initial aid that I was able to begin setting my plans in motion. But even Wormtail did not seek me out due to loyalty. No. Wormtail came to me seeking protection from those he had chosen to betray. He came to me out of _fear._" Wormtail flinched again and Harry could hear the lumpy man whimpering under his breath.

"Step back, Wormtail," Voldemort said with an air of disgust to it. "Barty!"

Barty stepped forward from his place four to Harry's right, tall and proud. "Now young Barty Crouch here is a truly faithful follower. He went to Azkaban rather than deny me as his master and Lord. He suffered there for over a year before he was secretly broken out by his _dearly departed daddy,"_ Voldemort finished in a mocking tone. "He suffered for a decade but freed himself and came to my aid. He has served me well this last year and has done much for me. He will be rewarded appropriately."

"Thank you, my Lord," Barty said bowing his head low before standing straight and taking a step back into the line.

"And finally, I would like to introduce you all to someone _new._ Someone who has proven himself loyal and valuable to me in ways that no one else could accomplish. Someone who has done for me things that no one else could possibly do and who has proven himself to me _fully and completely._ He is young still, but you all _will_ show him the proper ressspect!" Voldemort said in a fierce voice before pausing to trail his eyes across the crowd.

"Evan, step forward," Voldemort commanded at last and Harry took several steps forward, coming to stand directly before the Dark Lord. "I wish to now introduce you all to my _apprentissss;_ Evan Harris." Voldemort reached out and grasped Harry's shoulder, turning him to face the crowd. Harry easily spun around and bowed his head for a moment before standing tall again and looking out over them all.

It was clear that they were all stunned by the pronouncement, and Harry couldn't fully hide the slightly smug smirk that graced his lips as he looked out over the gathered group of Death Eaters.

"Evan will be living here in the manor for the next few months. He will be working as a personal assistant to me as well as attending to additional tasks. If there is any point that you come to the manor to deliver a report or other intelligence and I am indisposed, but Evan is available, you may leave the information with him and he shall make sure that I receive it quickly. Now..." Voldemort paused again, looking over the crowd and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder to indicate that he should return to the line. Harry quickly turned to face the Dark Lord again, bowed his head and took two steps backwards to resume his position in line.

"Quite a few of you have managed to gain positions within the Ministry. For this I am pleased. I wish for you all to prepare as much information about your department, work, the people who you work with, and those who you have influence over and bring it back to me. I will meet with each of you individually to discuss what you bring me.

"Much time has been wasted. While I was left to wander the abyss, the Light has been growing and growing in power. Passing legislation and establishing new departments that weaken the foundation of our society and leave us vulnerable to the muggles. The egregious actions of those idiots who have come into power must be rectified!" he hissed. "We must act swiftly, but we must act in secret until everything has been properly prepared for. This is a war that will initially be waged in the shadows, but once we are ready, we shall take control swiftly and secure it within an iron grasp!

"Our mission is paramount! The wizarding world is in more danger than they realize and it is not by our hands that they shall fall, but by their own! They are slowly destroying themselves and they are taking us with them. We shall all perish by their idiotic governing, when the muggles become aware and decide to act against us. We must gain control of the Ministry and the Wizengamot, and finally we must take Hogwarts. A new day is dawning, my faithful followers. With you by my side, I shall lead our world and restore the great glory to our society!"

The meeting went on for quite a while. Harry was eventually summoned to sit on the stone dais beside Voldemort's throne and to take directed notes. He quickly conjured parchment and a quill and began to note down each of the specific things that Voldemort would lean over and quietly speak to him to, as the Dark Lord discussed things and questioned different Death Eaters individually. Mostly the notes were reminders of things to investigate or to prepare, and objects that would be useful to crafted to serve specific spying purposes.

The back row was dismissed first after they had each been briefly debriefed and then assigned specific tasks. That then left what Harry figured was Voldemort's Inner Circle to stand before him. More things were discussed and more tasks were dolled out. Each person present was expected to prepare several reports on various intelligences and bring them back later. As Harry sat there, scribbling away on the rolls of parchment before him, he noticed several people in front of him eyeing him speculatively, and several eyeing him with contempt. It was clear that there were those among the Inner Circle who were less than pleased with some young unknown coming in out of no where and suddenly being assigned the title of 'Apprentice'. The idea of the Dark Lord taking on an apprentice at all was unheard of and had undoubtedly left quite a few of them bewildered.

The only person among the crowd who was currently keyed into Harry's glamor, besides Voldemort of course, was Barty. Even Wormtail was ignorant to Harry's true identity.

One by one, as the night wore on, the Inner Circle Death Eaters were dismissed until there was only Lucius, Snape, and Barty left standing in the line. Wormtail had long since been sent off to his room. At some point during the lengthy debriefing Nagini had come into the room and she was currently stretched along the base of the throne at Voldemort's feet.

The Dark Lord had just finished giving Lucius his final assignment and it would be the most obvious moment for Lucius to leave, but it was obvious that he was itching to ask another question and yet unsure if he should.

Voldemort smirked at the man's hesitation. "Was there something else you wished to speak to me about, Lucius?"

"I heard a... curious rumor, my Lord," Lucius said, bowing his head lightly and chancing a quick glance towards Snape and Barty.

"Did you now? About what?"

"About Harry Potter, my Lord," Lucius said, once again glancing towards the other two in the room and lingering most suspiciously on 'Evan Harris' sitting on the dais. "Perhaps we could discuss it in private when you are done with the others?"

"That will not be necessary, Lucius. Everyone else that still remains in this room is already aware of that which you are asking about," Voldemort said with a light air of amusement. The startled surprise in Malfoy's unobscured eyes caused Harry to duck his head to hide his smirk. He apparently didn't hide it well enough since Lucius was now glaring down at him.

"I am to assume that your son Draco probably made suggestions to you that Harry Potter said something to him that would suggest that the Boy-Who-Lived had become the Boy-Who-Switched-Sides?" Voldemort asked airily.

"Yes my Lord. I had my doubts to it's validity though. I suspected that Potter might be trying to trick Draco into admitting things he would be best served not admitting to someone like _Potter._ However Potter mentioned the date of March 20th, suggesting to Draco that on that date my mark would have reacted. It did of course – am I to assume that was the night of your full resurrection, my Lord?"

"That is correct."

"When Draco asked Potter how he knew such a thing, he said it was because he was there for the resurrection..." Lucius said, letting the sentence trail off into an unspoken question.

"He was," Voldemort confirmed easily. Lucius blinked and it was clear, even with the mask, that the man was stunned.

"He... was?"

"Potter has aligned himself with me. He played a crucial role in the ritual that restored my body and magical powers. He is secretly working against Dumbledore, and his switch in alliances must be kept secret at all costs."

"Yes, my Lord!" Lucius said, only barely recovering from his shock. His lips wavered a few times as if he were searching searching for words to speak, but unsure how to properly voice his questions without getting cursed. "H-how..."

"How did Harry Potter end up coming to my side?" Voldemort asked with a slight smirk gracing his lipless face.

"I must admit, my Lord, that I am also desperate to understand how this came to pass," Snape said from Lucius's right.

"Didn't Potter explain it to you when he first approached you for me?" Voldemort asked airily and Lucius's eyes widened behind his mask and darted over to Snape with shock.

"He... did," Snape said slowly. "He said that the reason his name was initially put into the cup for the tournament was your doing. The original plan was to abduct him during the final task and forcefully using his blood in a ritual to restore your body."

"That is correct."

"However he said that through the course of the year he came to several realizations, as well as discovering your plans."

"Again, correct. The realization that the prophecy was false, and that it was an elaborately constructed scheme by Dumbledore in an attempt to destroy me made it obvious that there was no legitimate reason for the two of us to continue attempting to kill each other. We both came to the realization that our efforts could be much better put to use working together to take down our common enemy – Albus Dumbledore."

"_Harry Potter_ considers Dumbledore an enemy?" Lucius asked disbelievingly.

"We are all fully aware of the levels of duplicity that the man is capable of. He is also remarkably skilled at deceiving those around him. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, Harry Potter has had a bit of an awakening, and has learned to see the old man's deceit for what it is. He came to me of his own free will, with absolutely no coercion. He is loyal to me and has served me well so far.

"It is true that he made mistakes, but he was young and being played by a master manipulator. During his first year, when he prevented my acquisition of the philosopher's stone, he had no idea it was even I who was after it, and he was only acting because Dumbledore had secretly directed him to. In his second year, again, his actions cost me an extremely valuable object, and resulted in the death of a thousand-year-old basilisk, however, again – he was merely being used by the old man. He was an extension of Dumbledore's hand. He was being used. I do not blame him for his actions. He was young, naive, and he had been tricked.

"He has repented for his actions against me, I have forgiven him his past misdeeds and he has moved beyond those I have committed against him and come to terms with working under me. He has since proven himself dependable and devoted to me and our cause. I do not question his loyalties to me. _You_, however, have left me with my doubts."

"M-my Lord! I have only ever devoted myself to the dark cause! I have always and forever been loyal to you first! I –"

"You discarded a powerful magical artifact that was both precious and irreplaceable, for your own personal gain," Voldemort interjected with a harsh, angry, sneer.

"That muggle-loving fool Weasley was trying to push through legislature that would greatly hinder our cause, my Lord. I only ever wished –"

"To humiliate him and discredit him. Yes, I saw that much for myself, Lucius. Whether or not your actions actually had any effect on the bill failing to go through, however, is debatable. I can approve of the goal, however, I left that artifact with you with the expectation that you would guard it with your very life, and instead, you let it fall into the hands of light wizards. Your actions resulted in the diary's destruction, and for that, you _will_ repay me."

Lucius's eyes were filled with barely concealed terror and he quickly shook his head before bowing low. "Y-yes, my Lord."

"Now, Lucius," Voldemort said sitting up straighter in his throne and calling the elder Malfoy to his full attention. "The school term is as good as over, but during the next school year I will be requiring your son's assistance with Potter."

"Of course, my Lord. Whatever you need."

"Bring him here to the manor during the summer so that I may speak with him."

Harry could see the discomfort in Lucius's posture but the man tried to mask it well. "Yes my Lord. I will bring him."

"Good. That is all Lucius. I expect the report from you within a week."

"Yes my Lord," Lucius said as he dipped to one knee and bowed before standing and preparing to leave. Harry wondered how many times that evening he had heard the phrase 'yes, my lord'.

"Evan, escort Lucius to the entry hall and wait for me in the study," Voldemort said then, pulling Harry out of his musings. Harry nodded his head and began to stand up. He had been expecting this. Snape and Barty would finish their Hogwarts debrief, and receive any end-of-term instructions now and Harry would be filled in later.

He rolled up the scrolls he had taken his notes on and tucked them under his arm. He stepped down off the dais and strolled over to Lucius's side. The pair quickly left the room, leaving Voldemort alone with Snape and Barty.

Harry and Lucius walked down the long hall in silence at first, but the silence was broken by Lucius.

"I must admit that my curiosity is beyond peaked about you," he said in a calm conversational voice.

"Oh? And what about me would inspire such curiosity?"

"I don't think I have ever heard of the Dark Lord taking on an _apprentice._ It is absolutely unheard of."

"Ah, that."

"Yes, _that." _Lucius said shortly and finally turning his head and giving Harry a sharp look. Harry smirked back causing the elder Malfoy's eyes to narrow.

"It is a position that I somehow slipped into my fluke. I was not seeking out the position, but the Dark Lord desired to teach me."

"He desired to teach _you?_" Lucius remarked disbelievingly.

"There is much about me that goes unseen," Harry said, grinning back.

"I would assume as much if you were able to catch the attention of the _Dark Lord_," Lucius said coming to a stop now in the entry hall and giving Harry a long look over. Not that there was a lot of look at since they were both covered head to toe in black robes. Although Lucius's eyes did linger longer of Harry's half-exposed face. The elder Malfoy was clearly intrigued by the unique mask, but didn't remark on it.

"Evan Harris, was it?" Lucius asked, conversationally.

"That's right."

"You wouldn't be related to the Tutshill Harris's or perhaps the Portree Harris's?"

Harry just gave the other man a small smirk and remained silent.

"Hm," Lucius huffed quietly before pulling his cloak around him better. "Well I suppose I shall be off."

"I suppose you shall. If you come to the manor often this summer, we shall probably see much of each other."

Lucius rose a single eyebrow before narrowing his eyes. He gave a curt nod before apparating away. Harry smirked and chuckled lightly under his breath before turning and heading up the stairs to wait in the study.

– –


	31. Chapter 31

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does._

_First Beta Pass by Clemex_

– –

Severus came to stand before the gargoyle entrance to the headmaster's office and took a deep calming breath as he quickly locked away all of his conflicting emotions tightly behind his occlumency shields.

The last month had been both enlightening and trying on his patience. Going back to the Dark had brought an amalgam of emotions to the surface that he had spent a decade suppressing. But if he was being totally honest with himself, the most prominent emotion of them all had been... _relief._

Potter had been right about one thing. Serving the Light had most certainly not been fulfilling. Everything about aiding the Light had felt _wrong_. It made his skin itch with disgust and frustration. He was a Dark Wizard and the Dark was where he belonged. If it hadn't been for his guilt and his strong emotional ties to Lily, he never, _never_ would have gone to Dumbledore.

Allowing himself to become the servant to the Light Lord had been the one thing he had regretted most about his life, but he couldn't leave the man. He was trapped. Dumbledore's protection was the only thing that kept him out of Azkaban. He argued with himself that he had a decent enough life. He had a job that he could... tolerate, a regular income, a roof over his head, and freedom. Well, relative freedom.

But now with the Dark Lord back, he had an alternative. Before it was stay with Dumbledore or face the dementors. Now he had somewhere else to turn. Somewhere he felt far more at home turning to. He _belonged_ with the Dark, and he held the Dark Lord with reverence and respect. True, he also feared the man. You would have to be insane not to. But he had always felt the draw to the Dark, and when the Dark Lord came into power during Severus's youth, he had been drawn to the Dark Lord like a moth to flame. His desire to remain by the man's side had never waned, but his love and loyalty to Lily Evans had been his one weak point.

A weakness that Albus Dumbledore had exploited to gain himself a spy and a servant.

Being the master of deception that he was, Severus had not had any problems concealing his conflicting emotions over the last month. But Albus had been utterly oblivious during that time. He had had no reason to give any of Severus's behavior any deeper analyzing. Now the Headmaster would _know_ he had been to see the Dark Lord. Now he would be watching to make sure that Severus was remaining loyal. Now would truly test Severus's skill as a double agent.

Steeling himself he stood tall and spoke the password to the gargoyle. _Peanut Butter Cups_. He sneered in distaste at the old man's idiotic obsession with sweets as he stepped onto the spiral staircase and climbed up to the double-doors that entered the headmaster's office.

"Come in Severus," the old man's voice sounded from behind the door before his hand had even reached out to grasp the handle. He had expected this of course. He knew damn well that the headmaster had proximity wards that alerted him to when someone, and _whom,_ approached his office.

Severus pulled open the door and stepped inside, quickly making his way to sit down in the chair opposite the headmaster's desk.

Dumbledore looked tired and his face was lined with worry, but Severus could see that there was something hidden behind his eyes. Something kept masterfully hidden.

"Severus, you were gone for a very long time. I was beginning to grow worried," Dumbledore said.

_I'm sure you were... worried you would lose your spy._

"I am as well as could be expected."

"What happened? Has he... has he truly returned?"

"He has. Apparently he has had a body for quite some time, in fact. He has been preparing and warding his new stronghold while secretly making contact with a select few of his old followers. Tonight was the first time he called a group of us back to his side."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "For _some time?_ How long, exactly?"

"I am not sure. He was not specific."

"How strong did he appear to be?"

"Full strength. I haven't felt a magical presence so strong... since during the height of his last reign."

Dumbledore frowned deeply and looked troubled as he clasped his hands in front of him on his desk. "This is most troubling... Did you see who all was in attendance?"

"Only a very small number of his followers returned to him. In total there were only six of us there. They were all dressed in black with full masks, but I know that Lucius Malfoy and Royce Avery were both there."

"Only six?" Dumbledore asked with a hopeful air to his voice.

"He was most displeased by the low turn-out."

"Hmm..." Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully as he nodded. "You were gone more more than four hours – what all was discussed during the meeting?"

"He described to those of us who were there what happened to him during his time... away. He also expressed his intense displeasure that none of us ever sought him out to assist him in his return."

"Were you cursed, Severus?" Dumbledore asked suddenly as he sat up straighter and took on an air of worried concern.

"I was not. But several of the others were."

"I am most relieved that you were spared."

Severus chose to simply respond with a nod at that remark.

"What else, Severus?"

Severus went on to explain all of the various things that the Dark Lord had instructed him to relay to the headmaster. Next to none of it was actually true, but it was convincing, and sufficiently misleading, so it would serve it's purpose.

"Did he speak of any of his plans for Harry?" Dumbledore asked after Severus had reached a break in his information relay.

"He said that he had very specific plans already in motion and that we were not to interfere in them. It would seem that Potter's entrance into the tournament was the Dark Lord's doing, after all. However it was part of a failed plot that was apparently discarded several months ago. Bartemius Crouch Sr. disappearance is somehow related to it but I am unfamiliar with the details. Once the plan was abandoned, Potter's continued participation in the tournament was no longer important, but had become inconsequential. The fact that he survived it was apparently disappointing, but not unexpected. The Dark Lord said that he would have been annoyed had he been denied the opportunity to deal with the boy himself."

Dumbledore looked troubled and nodded his head thoughtfully. "Thank you for what you've discovered. Please do you best to discover what his plans regarding Harry might be."

"I will see what I can do, however he seems to be holding his secrets most dear to him at the moment. He was never one for trusting his followers with the details of his plans, and he seems even more secretive at the moment. Much of the time tonight was spent getting intelligence from the few of us who returned to him."

Again, Dumbledore nodded.

"There is one more thing," Severus said slowly.

"Yes, my boy?"

Severus let out a mild sneer at the endearment, but this was normal behavior for Severus, so he knew Dumbledore would not take it badly.

"There was one unknown person who is apparently staying at his headquarters with him. "

"Oh?"

"He was a younger man that the Dark Lord called 'Evan Harris'. He looked to be a little more than twenty and was wearing a half-mask instead of the normal full mask. The Dark Lord called the young man his 'apprentice' and instructed us that if he were ever absent from the manor that we could give any reports to the young man instead."

Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair and looked legitimately alarmed for the first time that night. "Apprentice?"

"Yes."

"Evan Harris... There haven't been any students at Hogwarts by that name as I can recall. I will have to go looking through the records to make sure... Did he look or sound familiar to you?"

"I did not recognize him. Though his unique mask left more of his face visible than is normal, I was still unable to see much. From what I could tell he had blondish colored hair. It was long since it was coming out from under his hood."

"And you say he's living there?"

"That is what the Dark Lord said."

Dumbledore sat with his hand folded under his chin, and silently contemplating for a long, silent moment before he looked up again. "Thank you Severus, again, for all that you are doing. It will be a tremendous help to me. I cannot express enough how important your contribution to the cause is."

Severus's lip curled in distaste, but he kept it to a minimum.

"It would seem that I will need to call the old crowd back together. With Voldemort's return confirmed it is imperative that we act as soon as possible."

– –

It was nearly 5am before Harry crawled back into his bed in Gryffindor Tower. He had been sorely tempted to just sleep at the manor, but knew that would be reckless and not really worth the risk of people noticing him not having actually slept in his bed. The only consolation was that the next day was a Saturday, so he could sleep in without anyone having anything to complain about.

Exams were now done, for just about everyone. All that remained were some NEWT exams that would be held on Monday and Tuesday. Everyone else had the week to relax around the castle until the end of year feast on Thursday, and then the train ride back to London on Friday. That gave Harry only a few days leeway in speaking with Sirius again.

Harry slept in again on Sunday, and found himself annoyingly occupied all day. He even had trouble slipping away to pay Tom a visit, and hadn't been able to free up enough time to slip away to Sirius's cave so he decided to schedule a nice solid block of time to do it on Monday.

As of dinner on Sunday evening, Harry was positive that Draco had had recent correspondence with his father because the Slytherin was looking at him with whole new eyes. Despite their encounters, conversations, and the fact that Harry had clearly been using Dark magic, Draco had still been skeptical about the validity of his claims... until now. Now it had been confirmed by the Dark Lord himself, and it looked as if Draco were going to have a brain aneurysm from the mere concept.

Harry Potter _really had_ switched to the Dark.

Harry shot him a secret smirk and winked at him, causing the Malfoy heir to go wide eyed and quickly look away. Harry snorted into his food, catching the attention of Ron and Ginny, but he brushed their curiosity off.

Monday morning Harry managed to slip away from everyone, with the excuse that he needed some fresh air, some alone time, and the opportunity to take a nice long walk around the castle before he had to leave it behind for the summer holidays. His friends all knew how sentimental he was about the school, so they accepted this easily.

He shrunk his broom and slipped it into his bag so he wouldn't have to make the long trek to the cave on foot, and slipped out across the grounds under his invisibility cloak. Once he had escaped the wards, he enlarged his broom, hopped on while keeping the cloak draped over him, and flew low across the hilly terrain towards the cave that Sirius had lived in for the last few months.

Harry was relieved to find Sirius there when he arrived. He was sleeping on a rough pallet bed with only a few rather dirty blankets for cover. The sight made Harry frown deeply, and only increased his desire to help his godfather. While deep down he really did wish that his godfather could accept the Dark Lord, somehow deep inside, he really doubted it would really work out. Sirius Black really was a Gryffindor, and he had an ingrained hatred of the Dark Lord.

He felt so conflicted in regards to his godfather.

Harry stepped deeper into the cave, bowed to Buckbeak and waited for the hippogriff to return the gesture, and then knelt down beside Sirius on the cold stone floor.

"Sirius?" Harry said, as he gently shook his godfather's shoulder.

It took a minute of prodding but Sirius finally startled awake.

"Huh-h... H-harry?"

Harry chuckled and sat back on his haunches. "For someone whose on the run, you're a surprisingly deep sleeper.

"Er... had a late night..." the older wizard grumbled rubbing his hand across his jaw and standing groggily to his feet. Harry stood up with him and pulled out his cypress wand. He spelled them a pair of comfortable chairs and sat down in one while Sirius left the cave to relieve himself. By the time he had come back in, Harry had pulled out a bag of food and supplies and enlarged it. Sirius eagerly began the eat and the two sat in relative silence for several minutes.

Finally Harry broke the quiet. "Have you been giving it some thought?"

"Of course I have," Sirius said with a heavy sigh. "You know I got an owl yesterday from Dumbledore. He's calling the old crowd back together. Apparently he knows Voldie's back."

"Yup. There was a really large meeting two nights ago. The Dark Lord had Snape go to Dumbledore before hand, letting him know that he'd been summoned. As was expected, Dumbledore asked Snape to resume his role as spy and return to the Dark Lord. After the meeting, Snape was instructed to go back to Dumbledore and make a report on it."

"And you all honestly expect _Snape_ to be loyal? The guy is a dirty two-faced snake. He'll always play both sides. How do you know he isn't really spying for Dumbledore and telling him all about where your loyalties really lie?"

"Severus is loyal to the Dark. It's where he's always _wanted_ to be. He went to Dumbledore because he loved my mum and was afraid that the Dark Lord would kill her."

"And he _did."_

"Yes, but now Severus knows that Dumbledore was the one really pulling the strings. Dumbledore not only used Severus to deliver the fake prophecy that ended up painting a huge 'kill me' on our backs, but then he used Severus and tricked him into indenturing himself to Dumbledore by playing on his guilt. Besides, Snape has made an unbreakable vow to protect me, and has sworn his loyalties to the Dark Lord under oath. We're relatively sure of his allegiances. We're also going to be careful of just what he knows in regards to _me_."

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but paused and got a funny look on his face. "Wait, he's sworn an _unbreakable vow_ to protect _you?_"

"Apparently he did it years ago when he first went to Dumbledore and offered his services as a double agent. It was how he proved his loyalties. He wasn't willing to swear a vow to Dumbledore, but he was willing to swear one to Lily's son."

Sirius looked utterly gobsmacked and sat there stunned for a moment before he shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Alright..." he said slowly.

"So what are you going to do? About Dumbledore's letter, that is."

Sirius sighed and ran his hand through his dirty tangled hair. "I don't know, pup... I guess it depends on me going and joining up with your _Dark Lord._ If I do go and join Voldemort, then I guess it will be expected of me to go back to the Order. Thing is I'm not the actor that Snivelus is. I'm not cut out for spying. I also only have rudimentary occlumency training. I have to admit I'm hesitant to spend too much time around Dumbledore knowing what I know."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "That's reasonable."

"_But..._" Sirius started hesitantly, "Dumbledore suggested in his letter that the Order is going to need a new headquarters to hold it's meetings in. He asked if I still had control over my families old home in London."

"Home in London?"

"Yeah, on Grimmauld Place. It's probably a downright rancid old place by now. Been sitting empty about a decade, at least. It's the house I grew up in."

"And _do you_ still have control over it?"

"Of course. Could go there anytime. It's already unplottable and had enumerable protections and enchantments on the place, which is what would make it so ideal for the Order's headquarters."

"Wait, it sounds like if you went there, even the Ministry couldn't find you."

"That's right."

"So _why_ haven't you gone back there?"

Sirius grimaced. "I'd rather live in a _cave_ than go back to that house. I suppose it..." he sighed heavily. "No... I hated that house. I hated my family and I hated the time I spent in that house. I just didn't want to go back there unless I had to."

"Alright. So Dumbledore is asking if he can use the house for his Order?"

"Right. But he'd also want to put a _Fidelius_ charm on the house for added protection."

"And who would be the Secret Keeper?"

"Him."

Harry grimaced.

"He 'graciously offered it' so that it would be an added layer of security to keep the Ministry from finding me. He also suggested that if we can get Grimmauld Place cleaned up enough by August, we could possibly bring you to stay with me."

"Sounds like he's trying to sweeten the deal to get the house. I wonder if he really meant it..."

"Yeah..." Sirius sighed again.

"Well..." Harry said slowly, "mind you this is if you _accept_ our offer, but one option would be that you agree and offer up your miserable childhood home to Dumbledore for his Order, but you don't stick around to help clean the place up. Leave that to him to deal with. You tell him that you're heading out to try and track down Pettigrew and you run off and disappear for a month. You spend that month hanging with me at the manor. During that time, we can keep Pettigrew unconscious down in the holding cells while the Dark Lord makes sure that the _obliviate_ holds firm on him. At the end of the month, you take Pettigrew to the Ministry and get your named cleared."

"You make it sound so easy," Sirius said with an eyeroll. "I doubt I'll be able to just _walk_ into the Ministry with Wormtail and get my named cleared. If you recall, Fudge has a standing order that I be kissed on sight."

"We can work with that, don't worry."

Sirius gave Harry an incredulous look. "We?"

"To–The Dark Lord. He's got several Death Eaters in the Ministry that even Dumbledore doesn't know about. Plus I've placed the seeds inside Minister Fudge's little mind that I'm a fan of his. I even offered to just happen to show up in some public venue over the summer and give him an endorsement for his re-election this fall."

"WHAT? Give that idiot Fudge a public endorsement?"

"Of course. He's an incompetent idiot. He would rather _look_ like he's doing something than actually doing it. It will be far easier to dismantle the Ministry from the inside out if it's being run by a do-nothing moron who listens to Lucius Malfoy's every word."

"Oh _Merlin_, Harry," Sirius moaned as he let his forehead fall into his hands. "I don't know if I can do this... siding with _Lucius Malfoy_... trying to 'dismantle the ministry'? At the very least, you're helping the Dark Lord plan a coup d'etat, and at the worst, a war!"

"The Magical government of Britain is a corrupt, ineffective, and bigoted bunch of sycophantic morons. They're worthless at governing and they need to go."

"And you think that _Voldemort_ will do a better job?"

Harry sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair running his hand through his shaggy black hair. "Look, I doubt we'll ever make any progress on this front. We each have an exceedingly different impression of the man."

"You may say that he doesn't care about muggles and muggleborns this time around, but do you honestly think he's going to treat muggleborns fairly in this new government he makes?"

"Muggleborns are just the offspring of several generations removed squibs. No human is just spontaneously born with magic. There _has_ to be some creature blood in their lineage. Granted, muggleborns have a lot more muggle contamination, but we _all_ have non-magic, human contamination, that's just a fundamental fact."

Sirius made to say something, but then came up short. "Wait, what?"

"Here... I'm going to tell you some things and you have to promise not to repeat any of it to _anyone_, alright?"

"Okay..."

"The Dark Lord is a 'half blood'. His father was a _muggle_. Not even a muggleborn – a _muggle_."

Sirius gaped at him in stunned silence.

"His father abandoned he and his mum while she was pregnant and she died right after he was born so he was raised in a muggle orphanage. He didn't even know he was a wizard until he got his Hogwarts letter, and his witch mum gave him his muggle dad's name, so he went to Hogwarts and was sorted into _Slytherin_ with absolutely no knowledge of his ancestry. Everyone assumed him to be a muggleborn. I'm sure you can imagine how a muggleborn was treated in Slytherin."

"It would have been a massacre," Sirius murmured under his breath.

"It definitely wasn't pleasant. But he was a parseltongue, and when that got out, some of his house mates started to realize that there was clearly more to him than met the eye. He was also an exceptionally talented wizard and more magically powerful than anyone else in the school at the time. He got top marks in all his subjects. He's a _genius._ So he got respect, but it was a grudging respect and he had to work his ass off for it. He learned to work with and manipulate his house mates to serve his needs, and that meant using their prejudices against them.

"He _knows_ the truth about muggleborns, but it's not an idea that is easily introduced. The old pureblood families would have trouble accepting something like that, especially since so many squibs came from long pureblood lines, and then got disowned and thrown out into the muggle world to fend for themselves. Most so-called muggleborn children are actually descendants of really ancient pureblood lines. If the old families recognized this, they could be faced with having inheritances threatened.

"He wanted to wipe out the _muggles_, and it was easy to get people to follow him on that goal because of the prejudices many old wizarding families hold against them, but those same followers are just as prejudiced against the muggleborn and would target them as well. It was easier for the Dark Lord to let them do as they pleased because as long as they were happy they were helping him further his cause."

"But isn't that the same thing you've been complaining about Dumbledore? Willing to sacrifice innocents if it's for his 'greater good'?" Sirius argued.

"I never said Tom was perfect!" Harry snapped. "I _never_ claimed that he wasn't a ruthless murderer. He is. I _know that._ He did some seriously fucked up shit in the past, and he's going to continue to do more in the future. I'm not excusing what he did or what he allowed to happen, but he _is_ planning a different tactic this time around, and hopes to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. He also intends to slowly reintroduce the old knowledge about the creature lineage descent and eventually let that bleed into the realization of where exactly 'muggleborns' actually come from."

"So you're claiming that Voldemort is going to set up a magical government where muggleborns are treated as equals?" Sirius asked incredulously.

Harry sighed. "Look, it's not going to happen overnight, and unfortunately there's a huge anti-muggleborn stigma attached to his cause right now, which will make things difficult in the beginning, but in the end his goal is to create a government that properly serves _witches and wizards_ and even _muggleborns_ are are still witches and wizards."

"You make it sound like he's the good guy. _He's not the good guy,_ Harry!"

"There's isn't really any such thing as heroes and villains, Sirius. Good and evil don't exist. Very few people get into this stuff because they're legitimately _evil_. People have goals and motives and when someone is willing to fight for their ideals it's because _they believe_ in what they're fighting for. They believe that _they are_ the good guys. Everyone _believes_ that they're the ones in the right and the people fighting against them are the ones who are wrong. It's all about perspective in the end. History is written by the victors, which is why the history books are always able to peg one side as evil while the other side – the _winning side_ – were the heroes and saviors.

"Everyone has goals and objectives that they believe in and are willing to fight for, and no one fights with the goal of destroying the world unless they're an insane sociopath or something, and despite what you've been led to believe, Voldemort is not an insane sociopath.

"Dumbledore's side is fighting to maintain the status quo. That's what he's fighting for. To maintain the easy, already-established, and vaguely-functional government that we currently have in place. My side is fighting to tear it down and rebuild something that _isn't_ a pathetic, ineffective, worthless pile of hippogriff dung run by incompetent imbeciles!"

"You make it sound nice, Harry, but in the end, your trying to rebuild it into a dictatorship with _Voldemort_ sitting in a throne on top a pile of bloody corpses!"

"_A revolution is a struggle to the death between the future and the past."_

"Oh, you want to throw quotes at me? Here's one. _ 'Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new bureaucracy.'"_

Harry sighed heavily and fell back in his chair, pinching his nose. "Look... we're getting nowhere. You clearly can't do this. Forget it. You vow still holds true. You can't tell Dumbledore –"

"Harry! Wait a damn minute!"

"No, Sirius. I realize I was just deluding myself, hoping I could help you, but in the end, you could never be happy over here with me. You will _never_ be able to follow Voldemort. It's just not going to happen. You cannot be loyal to a man who you fundamentally despise, and nothing I say is going to change your mind on the issue."

"Harry! Come on now! Look, I said that I was going to stick by you and I meant it, I'm –"

"No. Just _no._ Look Sirius, if you come with me – if you take up the offer and exchange yourself for Peter, then you're committing yourself to our side. You will be expected to work towards our goals, and I just don't think you could be able to force yourself to do that in good conscience. You'd be miserable and you'd start to hate yourself, and I'm not going to put you into that position."

Sirius groaned loudly and collapsed back into his chair grumbling under his breath.

"You know I'm right. You just aren't cut out for this. Not for the Dark. Even knowing how badly Dumbledore has fucked you over, and how bad he's fucked me over... you still can't bring yourself to side with us. But I can understand that."

"I just don't understand how you can honestly think that _Voldemort_ is going to make the world a better place!"

"And you think that Dumbledore will?"

"Well, alright, probably not him either, but –"

"Well I'm not seeing any other options right now. I'm picking Tom. I actually _trust _him."

"And there you go again! How can you possibly –"

"Just don't, Sirius. I'm not starting this again. Let's just agree to disagree and call it done."

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, but then his face shifted to an expression of exhausted defeat and he let out a slow breath. The two sat in silence for a long minute.

"So what are you going to do now?" Harry asked, finally.

"I don't know..." Sirius said with another heavy sigh. "I'm not joining up with Dumbledore, that's for sure. I don't honestly think I could even stand to be in the room with the man, knowing what I know now."

Harry nodded his head solemnly. "I know how you feel. It was a real struggle not to curse the man the first few days after I learned about what he pulled with the prophecies. And I have to look at the bloody wanker every day at meals."

"See, I just don't know if I could do that. People would start to notice that there was something going on. I'm not that good an actor when I'm angry, Harry. I don't think I could convince the man that I still look up to and respect him. I don't think I even _could_ do the spy thing for you."

Harry sighed. "Yeah... I know. I knew I was just being an idiot, trying to set this whole convoluted thing up. Tom told me that this probably wouldn't work out, but I had to try."

"You really spend a lot of time with the guy?"

Harry leaned his head forward and grinned at his godfather. "I know that to you, it sounds unfathomable, but I really do consider him a friend. More than that really. He... he _gets me_. He and I have so much in common it's bizarre. Our childhoods, the way our magic works, the way we approach problems... He knows just how to explain something to make it make perfect sense. Whenever I'm stuck on some magical concept or spell and I just can't get it, he has a way of making it clear as day with the simplest explanations. I mean, we didn't even talk politics for the first month or so that I was spending time with him. We just talked about everything else.

"And a bit over a month ago we sort of... I guess we broke down a barrier, and since then it's like there isn't anything we can't talk about. Sometimes I'll ask a question he doesn't want to deal with and he'll change the subject, but 9 out of 10 times, if I ask a question, he'll give me a straight answer. And as I've gotten more comfortable with him, I've started asking pretty much whatever the hell comes to mind. We've talked about each other's childhoods, we've talked about each of our experiences at Hogwarts, we've talked about how we each first started dabbling in the dark arts... I mean, he's been willing to share really intimate, personal stuff with me and I just... it's... he's really..." Harry huffed in frustration and ran his hand through his hair.

"It doesn't matter," Harry finally said, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. "Just because _I _can connect with him, doesn't mean that you ever will. I doubt he would ever willingly show you the side of himself that he's willing to show me. You'd never get to know him the way I've gotten to know him. And in the end, your politics and ours are just too different. This isn't going to work."

Sirius sighed and slowly nodded his head. "So what do you want me to do, Harry?"

"Do what you want. Just don't join the order unless you're willing to stand with _Dumbledore_, against _me_. Because in the end, the Order is my enemy. Dumbledore is my enemy. And someday, I'm going to be going to war with them, and it's probably going to be bloody."

Sirius looked defeated and shook his head slowly. "I promised I'd look after you. Promised I'd protect you..."

"I don't need protecting, Sirius. Hell, I've got the most powerful wizard in the world already looking out for me. I'm good."

"Yeah, but who will protect you from _him_?"

Harry huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Don't bother, Sirius."

Sirius sighed again the the two lapsed into another thick moment of silence.

"You do realize that I can't give you Pettigrew now, right?" Harry asked.

Sirius grimaced but nodded his head. "You'd really stand beside the man who betrayed your parents?"

Harry shrugged. "One of these days, I'm going to kill him. When he's worn out his usefulness. He's still worth something right now though. Plus Tom's hesitant to just outright kill the man when he played a fairly significant role in helping the Dark Lord get a body back after thirteen years as a spirit. Even though he knows that Wormtail only returned to him is because he's a coward, and only because he wanted Voldemort to protect him, not because he wanted to help the Dark Lord or because he believed in the cause... but still... Wormtail helped him, and he refuses to 'reward' such behavior by betraying the man outright."

Sirius snorted. "The Dark Lord has a code of ethics?"

"He does, believe it or not. A lot of it would probably seem harsh or even cruel to you, but I think they're pretty valid."

"Give an example."

Harry growled lightly and ran his hand through his shaggy black hair. "Alright. He refuses to ever leave a magical child orphaned."

"Huh?"

"If the parents are both killed, the child is killed too. If possible, he prefers at least one parent is left alive, so that the child doesn't have to die. Generally the mother. But if both parents have to die, the child has to die too."

"And that's a _good thing? _That's disgusting! Killing an innocent child?"

"Better than having it raised by fucking _muggles _in some orphanage or group home, or by muggle relatives who will be afraid of it!" Harry snapped. "There are _no magical orphanages_, Sirius. _None._"

"Not all orphans would be treated the way you were, Harry," Sirius said hesitantly.

"Muggles are afraid of things they don't understand. Parents of so-called muggleborns are more-often-than-not still good to their children because they are their biological children and they love them no matter how frightening their crazy supernatural powers seem to be, but there's no bond like that with an orphan. No mandate that says 'love me no matter how big a freak I am'. Magical orphans are way more likely to end up abused and mistreated by muggles than anyone else."

"Just because you –"

"Tom too! Did you know the muggle woman who ran the orphanage he was raised in was so terrified by the things he could do, she brought in a priest to exercise him when he was _five_? And then again when he was seven, and eight? Have you ever seen a muggle exorcism? It's terrifying! Imagine doing that to a five year old? Imagine being that young and confused and being told you have a demon inside you! How do you think that would feel? How fucked up do _you_ think that would make _you_?"

"Alright! Alright..." Sirius said, holding his hands up as if in surrender.

"We're just running in circles again. Look..." Harry paused and began to dig into his pocket. He pulled out bottlecap with a hole punched through the center, on a long length of twine. "It's a two-way portkey. It will take you to the manor house if you ever change your mind, or if you're ever in any serious trouble. The activation word is _Riddle Manor_. It's keyed to only take one person, so you can't bring anyone with you. Even if you're holding onto someone at the time of activation, they'll still get left behind."

"How'd you manage that?"

"These aren't standard issue, Ministry port-keys. These are custom made by Voldemort himself. If you know what you're doing, you can put all sorts of specific little things into a port-key."

"I guess so..."

"Anyway, you take this," Harry handed over the portkey. "put it around your neck or something. You can keep it close. If the Ministry or the dementors get close you can always use it as an emergency get-away. Unfortunately, since it'll only take you, you obviously can't bring Buckbeak with you if you do come, but it's a two-way port-key so perhaps you could go back for him."

Harry sighed and stood to his feet. "I need to get going. People are going to start missing me if I'm gone all day. Getting mail to me this summer is going to be a bit slower. You can address owls to 'Harry Potter' and it'll get automatically redirected to a post box I've got set up, and then my mail will get collected every few days by a house elf."

"Huh? Why are you doing all that?"

"The manor has anti-owl wards on it. T–Voldemort doesn't like to take risks with tracking charms and other such things that can easily be placed on an owl delivering post. Or risk someone just following an owl on a broom. Honestly I'm shocked that the Ministry hasn't tried something like that to track you down. Just address a letter to Sirius Black and track the owl..."

"Ah, but that would be logical and intelligent," Sirius remarked with a weak grin. Harry smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He wasn't really feeling in much of a smiling mood. Who knew if he'd be seeing his godfather again anytime soon.

"Well... goodbye Sirius."

Sirius got up and stood awkwardly in front of Harry for a moment before he leaned forward and pulled Harry into a slightly stiff embrace. Harry hesitated but returned the gesture after a moment. His chest felt heavy. Sirius was the first person from 'before' that he had been honest with, and now he was basically all but cutting ties. Sirius had been just as royally fucked over as Harry, and yet the man still couldn't follow him down his chosen path. But if he was being honest with himself, he'd known that it never really could work.

Sirius was just too much of a Gryffindor at heart.

"Goodbye pup," Sirius said into Harry's shoulder and neck. "I sure hope you know what you're doing. If you ever need an escape... I'm here for you."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Alright Sirius. I won't need it, but thanks for the offer."

– –

AN: Don't want to break any hearts here. Anyway, this isn't the last of the Sirius interactions. So no worries there. There will be more Sirius in the sequel.


	32. Chapter 32

AN: The last chapter. Woo. Crazy. This will mark the end of book 1. The sequel is already in progress. If you go to my author page there is a link to my fanfiction forum where I post updates on my progress.

When I post the sequel to ffnet, I'll add an announcement chapter to this story, so if you put this on Alerts, you'll get notified when the sequel is posted.

– –

Harry felt notably down for the next few days. Tom noticed but didn't remark on it. They both knew why Harry was feeling the way he was feeling, and they didn't need to discuss it.

Now that exams were done, Hermione and Ginny had returned their focus full-swing to translating the last few passages of the Old Aldric book. It had taken a backseat to the mountain of homework that had lead into revision and then exams.

The day before the end of term feast, Hermione and Ginny gathered Harry up after breakfast and hid themselves away in an abandoned classroom as they pulled out the last of the translation and handed it to him.

With a mixture of anxious trepidation and excitement, Harry picked up the bound parchment notebook and began to read.

_The Record of Tarsang the second, son of Morac._

_G.t 14407_

_I have spent much time studying and recording the details for prosperity, of the greater magical creatures of this realm in preparation for our final departure. I wished to understand the actions that had been taken by this worlds Magic in __its attempt to save it's Children and I think I can finally sum up my findings into something simple, to serve as my contribution to this text._

_Goodness and understanding was needed in this world's greater magic users. Empathy, justice, and freedoms would help the half-creature Men thrive, and so those strong in the magics of Light were given the task of empowering these attributes. But Magic saw that those powerful in the Light would be more lenient towards the non-magical Men. They would fight for these non-magical beings 'rights', since they are the underdogs. They are weaker, and will forever be in need of someone to stand up for them and protect them, and it would be in the nature of the Light wizards to take up such a task._

_It was foreseen that it would be the Light magical half-breeds who would risk true exposure of magic to the non-magical Men. They would believe that all humans had the right to magic, because it was the __**just**__ and __**fair**__ thing. _

_However, the fact remains that if non-magic Men gain the power to wield magic, then the End will befall this world and all will perish._

_And so Dark magic was given power to keep the Light magic in check. To keep the Light from getting too powerful, and from exposing everyone, and thus, losing the magic for all._

_It is in the Dark's nature to covet the power of magic and keep such a power to themselves. To seek it out in every form and to hoard it. The Dark would not want the power to spread to the non-magics because it understands that they are not worthy of the power, and them gaining such a power would be disastrous for all._

_This world's End will come in one of two ways. The non-magical Men will steal magic, and use it to destroy all that exists, or the non-magical Men will destroy themselves with their own strange brand of magic, conjured from their too-fast-gained knowledge of sub-physical world and their 'science'. If the End is brought about by the non-magic sciences, the magical creatures of the world will have the chance to shield themselves from the fall-out and they will have the chance to survive. However if the end is brought about by the forces of magic, no one will be saved. All will die._

_It is a tragic end, and one I hope this world will manage to escape. I wish them my best as my family and I make our final preparations for our departure. I am saddened that I will never know the fate of this world and it's inhabitants that I have grown so fond of._

Harry sat there staring at the page for several long minutes after he had finished reading it. It didn't really give him any new information. Basically a rehash of what he'd already figured out or at least guessed at.

Harry was broken from his pondering by the sound of Hermione sighing heavily and sinking down into a chair opposite him.

"I don't even know what to _think_ about all this..." she said with a slightly dejected tone.

"It's not really anything new," Harry said shrugging. "Basically repeating what we'd already read earlier in the book."

"Yeah, I guess... it's still just difficult to take it all in. Do you really think it could be true?"

"Honestly?" Harry said, looking at the two girls, who were looking back at him expectantly. "Yes. I think it's true."

– –

The end of term feast was as spectacular as all of Hogwarts feasts always are and Harry collapsed into bed that night with an extremely full stomach. He had slipped down into the Chamber once that early morning just to make sure he didn't leave anything behind down there that he would want with him. He had hardly gone down there at all in months though, so there really wasn't anything he was in need of.

The next morning when Harry and his classmates made their way across the grounds to the front gates where the magical carriages were lined up to take them all down to Hogsmeade Harry came up short as he blinked owlishly at the skeletal horse-like creatures pulling them. He'd never been able to see the things pulling the carriages before, and for several moments he was completely confused.

It took him a minute to realize that no one else saw anything different at all. Then his brain turned back on and he finally recognized what the deathly looking creatures were.

"Thestrals..." he breathed under his breath as realization dawned on him. Once considered death omens because of their rather horrible appearance and the fact that they can only be seen by those who have witnessed death.

"Hmm?" Hermione had asked but he shook his head, dismissing it and pretending that nothing was up.

Of course he could see them now. He had killed someone in a rather brutal and horrible fashion. He was rather intimate with death now. He had caused it. But it made him wonder why he'd never seen them before. He _had_, after all witnessed his parents death, and if that couldn't count because he was too young, there still remained the fact that he'd witnessed Quirrell die... again, _by his own hands_. Hell, he had _literally_ killed Quirrell with his own_ bare hands_.

So why the bloody hell was he only able to see the thestrals _now?_

Harry shrugged it off. It didn't especially matter much. It was just one of those illogical things about magic that never really made much sense no matter how hard you tried to work it out in your head. Although, Tom would probably have a perfectly reasonable explanation for it.

Harry followed his friends onto the train, wishing he could just bypass this part and simply take his portkey to the manor house, but knowing he couldn't. Ginny hung out with them for a short while before heading off to meet up with some of her friends from her own year, leaving Harry alone in a compartment with Ron and Hermione.

"Oh hey, before I forget –" Harry started after the other two had been talking for some time about summer plans, "you two can send me owls to _this_ address." Harry pulled out two pieces of parchment and handed one to each of them.

They both looked at him curiously before unfolding the notes and looking at what was written.

Hermione was the first to speak. "France?" she gasped.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Yup. Did you know that France has no restriction for underage magical use?"

"I – wait, it what?" Hermione asked, coming up short.

"Yeah, witches and wizards can use magic all they want in France – as long as it's not being done in front of muggles, of course – and they won't get punished or anything, even if they're not 17 yet."

"Wait," Ron started, "so you're running off to _France_ so you can perform magic during your holidays? Do you even speak French?"

"No, and that's not why I'm going anyway. It's a coincidence really. It just so happens that the place I'm going to is in France and therefore I can perform magic this summer. Besides, that address isn't where I'm actually staying. It's a hired post box. A house elf will be retrieving my mail every few days and when I have outgoing mail, I give it to the elf and she'll bring it to a public post and sending it out with one of the owls there. Hedwig is just going to hang out with me all summer. She'll probably get a bit bored, not being able to deliver any letters, but the grounds are supposed to be pretty big so she'll have plenty of flying room."

"Wait, I don't get it... why are you going through all that?" Ron asked.

"The wards around the place I'm going to be staying doesn't allow owls to come in to deliver post."

"And... _why_?"

"To prevent anyone from using an owl to track me. No owls, no risk of tracking charms."

"Wow..." Hermione said, blinking in surprise. "Whoever you're staying with is willing to do all that just to make sure no one tracks you down with an owl?"

"They had those wards up already. I told you guys way back when I first mentioned all of this, that the place I'm going has some of the most powerful wards a private property can have."

"And you really can't tell us where you're going or who you're staying with?" Hermione asked, clearly looking worried.

"No can do. _Merlin_, chances are you two will both be getting visits from Dumbledore within the week as he starts desperately trying to track me down and haul me back to the Dursley's before the wards completely collapse there. If you don't know where I'm going, there's no way he can find out from you. It's just easier this way."

Hermione sighed and folded her arms over her chest but didn't persist in arguing. Ron just frowned.

"You can pass that address on to Ginny for me, right Ron?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, sure," Ron grumbled.

"What's up, Ron?"

Ron ducked his head, still scowling a bit and mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"It's just you've been spending a lot of time with my sister this year and now you're going to be writing with her over the summer too?" Ron finally said, raising his head.

Harry blinked at Ron and had to fight to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Ron, she's a friend. She can write to me if she wants to. I mean, it's not like you have to worry about me fancying your sister or something. She's got the wrong plumbing, and I'm already pretty attached to someone else."

Ron's face went red and he blanched a bit before looking away embarrassed. Suddenly understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes. "You what?"

"Huh?"

"What do you mean you're attached to someone?"

"Oh well... I'm sort of seeing someone."

"What? Since when? Who?"

"Er... for a while now. I mean, it started out as a friendly thing but sort of slowly morphed into something else. And as for who, I can't tell you who for the same reason that I can't tell you where I'm going this summer."

"It's one of the Beauxbatons boys!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly with a gasp. "The mystery boy you refused to tell me and Ginny about – it wasn't a boy from _any_ of the houses, it was a boy from Beauxbatons!"

"Er... no, actually. But... well, nevermind. Like I said, I really can't give you any details that might lead you to where I'm staying, Hermione."

"Huh? Wait a minute, Hermione. _You_ _knew_?" Ron exclaimed looking at Hermione and then back at Harry with hurt. "How come you never told me?"

"The only reason that Hermione and Ginny know anything about it is because they caught me sneaking in after having met up with him. If that hadn't of happened, even they wouldn't have any idea. I've kept this super secret because I don't want to risk his identity getting out."

"Wait, Harry!" Hermione yelled, suddenly. "No clues to where you're staying? I thought you said that his family didn't know he was, _you know_... But it sounds like you're going to go stay with him this summer. How..?"

"Oh his mum knows now. He told her. She's good with it, and with me being there. Don't worry, this is going to be fine. Still, we don't want to risk his name getting drug through the tabloids as Harry Potter's boyfriend so I'm still not willing to let it get out who he is."

"So you didn't trust me to keep it a secret?" Ron interjected in, still looking hurt.

"It's not that Ron, but we still have no idea how Rita Skeeter was spying on us, or if whatever method she used is still available to someone else. I just didn't want to risk anything. And then there's the whole Dumbledore questioning you two thing to try and figure out where I'm staying..."

Ron didn't look entirely appeased, but he did at least let it drop. Conversation turned to Hermione's plans for her holiday with her parents and she was startled to realize that while she and her family would be in Italy, she would be legally allowed to use magic. She'd had no idea and found the idea thrilling.

Draco did not pay Harry his normal Hogwart's Express visit, but Harry wasn't the least bit surprised by that. He doubted that Draco would know how to act around Harry right now, anyway.

Finally the train pulled up at King's Cross station and the three of them collected their luggage and exited into the platform. Harry shrunk his trunk using it's automatic shrinking feature, since he technically wasn't supposed to be able to use his own magic away from Hogwarts without getting caught, and then he grabbed Hedwig's cage. The Grangers were waiting there and found Hermione right away. Harry bid her farewell, and wished her a good holiday. By that time, Molly Weasley had appeared and had started gathering up her brood of gingers.

"I'll see you September first Ron!" Harry called out as he began to slip away.

"Oh, wait, Harry dear!" Molly Weasley called out and Harry groaned internally before turning around and giving her an innocent but confused smile.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Are your relatives here?" she said looking around the crowd curiously.

"I'm meeting them further away from Platform 9 ¾. They don't feel too comfortable this close to so many of '_my lot'._ You know how they are."

"Well if you'd just wait a few minutes we can walk out with you."

"No, that won't be necessary Mrs. Weasley. Besides, Uncle Vernon will get upset if I keep him waiting."

Molly Weasley looked torn as she looked back and forth from the twins and Ginny, and Harry.

"I've really got to get going. Thanks for the offer though," Harry called out as he resumed walking away towards the archway that would lead into muggle King's Cross. "See you in the fall Ginny! Ron! Bye Gred and Forge!"

"Bye Harry!"

"See ya later!"

"Have a nice holiday!"

"And thanks again, Harry! We really owe you one!" one of the twins called out as Harry grinned back at them over his shoulder and finally disappeared through the arch. Harry had given the twins his winnings the morning after the impromptu awards ceremony and from what he understood, they had already started to owl order loads of different ingredients and things. If nothing else, the twins would be good for a laugh.

Harry quickly made his way through the crowds of muggles before seeing an 'Employees Only' door, propped open slightly by a broom. Harry slipped his cypress wand down his sleeve and into his hand and discreetly cast a 'notice-me-not' charm on himself as he slipped in through the door. Once he was positive that there was no one around to witness anything, he made sure he had a firm grip on Hedwig's cage, turned on the spot, and apparated away.

He reappeared with a soft _crack!_ in the entry hall of Riddle Manor. He grinned and heaved a big sigh of relief. It was summer holiday. He was _free._ It had really worked.

"Shall I be taking master's luggage up to his room?" a squeaky voice sounded from behind him, making Harry spin around in surprise. Standing there was Mixey, looking up at him with those huge tennis ball-sized eyes and big flappy bat ears. Harry grinned down at her.

"I can do it myself. I've already got my trunk shrunk down in my pocket."

"Then gives it to Mixey and I's be taking it up to master's room," she insisted with a nod of her head.

Harry grinned in mild amusement down at her and shrugged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the matchbox sized trunk and handed it over to her, followed by Hedwig's cage. She graciously took them, bowed low, and disappeared with a soft pop.

Harry chuckled quietly, but it turned into a relieved sigh as he felt the familiar magical presence behind him.

"You're not wearing your ring," Tom said.

"Gah! I knew I forgot something," Harry said, smacking himself on the forehead and reaching into his pocket where he had stored his glamor ring. He slipped it onto his left-hand index finger as he was turning around and smiled up at the handsome man that had come to mean such an immensely different thing to him during the last few months.

Tom was looking down on him with an amused smirk as Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"How was your train ride?"

"Long and annoying," Harry said rolling his eyes. "I can't even tell you how many times I wished I could have just used the portkey or apparated straight here instead of having to bother with the damn train."

Tom chuckled and took a few steps forward. Harry felt his skin tingle with anticipation as the other man drew closer and instinctively gravitated towards him. Within the blink of an eye, Tom had gathered Harry up in his arms, one hand behind his neck and tangling long slender fingers into the long, shaggy fringe at the base of Harry's neck, and the other in the small of Harry's back. Harry's arms came up and wrapped around Tom's neck, his fingers lacing together where they met.

"All mine for two whole months," Tom breathed as he pulled Harry's face mere inches from his own.

"I'm yours forever, if you want me," Harry breathed back; the words escaping his lips before he even registered them in his mind.

"Of course, I want you, pet. But that's not what I meant," Tom said pulling back and smirking down at Harry with mild amusement.

"It's still true. I'm yours," Harry said, looking up into Tom's deep red eyes with such an intensity that it almost gave the elder wizard pause. They shared a long, lingering look before Tom bent down and gently brushed his lips against Harry's.

_§Mine._Tom hissed, causing a powerful shudder to course through Harry and a wide grin to spread across his lips..

_§Yours,§ _Harry hissed back.

Tom pulled back completely and took a step away.

"Come, Pet. We shouldn't linger in such a public place. It isn't likely, but my followers have free reign to come and go in this part of the manor and I would rather not be seen by them while in this form."

Harry blinked at the sudden shift and realized that Tom was still, well, _Tom_. Harry smiled softly, realizing that the man had stayed in his natural form to greet him, even at the risk of being seen that way by someone else in what he considered his 'weaker' form.

Harry nodded his head, smiling softly up at Tom, the other smirked back and headed up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Tom paused and turned to look at Harry over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home."

– End Book One –


	33. Chapter 33

SEQUEL HAS BEEN POSTED

This is to notify anyone who has this story on alerts that I have posted the prologue and first chapter of the sequel, entitled, Harry Potter and the Breeding Darkness.

Visit my author profile for the story.


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